To tell of them who cannot die;
Even we, who then were nothing, kneel
In homage there, and join earth’s general peal.
But the doomed Indian leaves behind no trace,
To save his own, or serve another race;
With his frail breath his power has passed away,
His deeds, his thoughts are buried with his clay;
Nor lofty pile, nor glowing page
Shall link him to a future age,
Or give him with the past a rank: