He fought for his country, and not its “hurrah!”
In the path of the hero with pity he trod,
Let him pass with his sword to the presence of God!
What more? Shall we on with his ashes? Yet stay!
He hath ruled the wide realm of a king in his day;
At his word, like a monarch’s, went treasure and land,
The bright gold of thousands has passed through his hand.
Is there nothing to show of his flittering hoard?
No jewels to deck the rude hilt of his sword—
No trappings—no horses? what had he? But now,