Yet his spirit was still on the field of battle. In the delirium which preceded death his voice rang in sharp command:
"Tell Major Hawkes to send forward provisions to the men!"
His head sank and a smile lighted his rugged face. In low tender tones be gasped his last words on earth:
"Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees."
So passed the greatest military genius our race has produced—the man who never met defeat. His loss was mourned not only by the South but by the world. His death extinguished a light on the shores of Time.
The leading London paper said of him:
"That mixture of daring and judgment which is the mark of heaven-born generals distinguished him beyond any man of his age. The blows he struck at the enemy were as terrible and decisive as those of Bonaparte himself."
Thousands followed him in sorrow to the grave. The South was bathed in tears.
Lee realized that he had lost his right arm and yet, undaunted, he marshaled his legions and girded his loins for an invasion of Northern soil.