A hero past that fatal “bourn
From whence no traveller returns;”
Before him none more good, more great,
E’er felt the unerring shafts of fate,
Though glory’s lamp illume their urns.
Behold yon pallid war-worn chief,
A marble monument of grief,
Who once our troops to victory led;—
The burst of sorrow now control,
But now the tears of anguish roll,