The soldier’s death hath been thy doom,
The soldier’s tear thy mead shall be;
Yet, son of war! a prouder tomb
Might Fate have rear’d for thee.
Thou shouldst have died, O high-soul’d chief!
In those bright days of glory fled,
When triumph so prevail’d o’er grief
We scarce could mourn the dead.
Noontide of fame! each tear-drop then
Was worthy of a warrior’s grave: