I see, before the campfire's fitful gleam,
The sentry pace, as in a waking dream,
Yet manfully subduing the fatigue
Of battle, and the march of many a league,
For no excitement or emotion serves
To buoy his spirits or sustain his nerves.
Weak from the loss of their accustomed rest,
With heavy eyes and aching bones distressed,
The while their weary comrades soundly sleep,