Now sounds the "Onset" that each Clansman knows,
Still leads the foremost rank, where noblest blood is shed.
V
And on that day no nobler stained the sod,
Than his, who for his country laid life down;
Who, for a mighty Empire battled there,
And strove from rival's brow to wrest the laurel crown.
Twice struck,—he recks not, but still heads the charge,
But, ah! fate guides the marksman's fatal ball:—
With bleeding breast, he claims a comrade's aid,—