On wasted valour doom’d to perish here.
For these—what boots it to disguise the truth?—
These are no wars in which, for all things loved,
And precious, and revered—for all the ties
Clinging around the heart—for those whose smile
Makes home so lovely—for his native land,
And for its laws, the patriot soldier fights!
These are no wars in which the chieftain’s aim
Is but to station his devoted bands,