Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Hohenlinden.
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
The Exile of Erin.
To bear is to conquer our fate.
On visiting a Scene in Argyleshire.
The sentinel stars set their watch in the sky.[515:2]