And there, just fronting it, the barrack square;
But of all those I knew not one is there—
Even the old gate-keeper—he is gone.
Ah, me! ah, me! when last I stood upon
This grassy mound, with what proud hopes elate
I was to wrestle with the strength of fate
And conquer! Now—I live and that is all.
Oh! happier those whose lot it was to fall
In noble conflict with their country's foes
Far on the shores of Taurie Chersonese!