Soon, alas! was his fall—but he died at his post.
2 The stranger’s eye wept, that, in life’s brightest bloom,
One gifted so highly should sink to the tomb;
For in ardor he led in the van of the host,
And he fell like a soldier—he died at his post.
3 He wept not himself that his warfare was done—
The battle was fought, and the victory won;
But he whispered of those whom his heart clung to most,
“Tell my brethren, for me, that I died at my post.”
4 He asked not a stone to be sculptured with verse;