And, leaning on our firelocks, heard the tales that soldiers tell
How comrades whom they little knew had done their duty well,
And how amid the hosts in fight no coward had been found;
Then gazed upon the foemen slain that lay in heaps around,
And said, in bitter hate and scorn, they well became the ground—
So evermore by sea and shore might those invaders be,
Who came with chains for limbs of men who by their birth were free—
A pang shot sharply through my brain—my brother! where was he?
I sought and found him with the blood slow oozing from his brain;
His feet were pointed to the ridge, his back was to the plain,