Nor lagging backward, let the younger breast
Permit the man of age (a sight unblessed)
To welter in the combat’s foremost thrust,
His hoary head dishevelled in the dust,
And venerable bosom bleeding bare.
But youth’s fair form, though fallen, is ever fair
And beautiful in death the boy appears,
The hero boy, that dies in blooming years:
In man’s regret he lives, and woman’s tears,
More sacred than in life, and lovelier far,