And war-steeds trample on the brave;
He died—it was in Holy Land—
Yet fell he not by Paynim hand;
He sleeps not with his sires at rest,
With trophied shield and knightly crest;
Unknown his grave to kindred eyes,
—But I can tell thee where he lies!
It was a wild and savage spot,
But once beheld—and ne’er forgot!
I see it now—that haunted scene