Achilles met an early doom;
Euryalus and Nisus, young,
Were slain; but honour’d was their tomb;
That, Homer, these, sweet Maro sung.
On the rude cliffs of proud Quebec,
In glory’s arm Montgomery dy’d;
And Freedom’s genius loves to deck
His early grave with verdant pride.
Nor shalt thou want a sprig of bays
To crown thy name. When set agog,