And the brave, in the trampling multitude,
Had a fearful death to die!
And the leader of the war
At eve unhelm’d was seen,
With a hurrying step on the wilds afar,
And a pale and troubled mien.
But the sons of the land which the freeman tills
Went back from the battle-toil,
To their cabin homes midst the deep-green hills,
All burden’d with royal spoil.