Little he guessed that we really cared,
But drums roll now for the slain.
Spreading the Flag o’er his last long sleep,
Leading the horse which he may not ride.
Tho’ for the living the roads are steep—
The road for the Dead rolls wide.”
“’Ere, stop that!” Red howled at him, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve, as the Blackguard went on in a broken voice, revelling in grief.
“Bravely he suffer’d and manly fought;
Great with Death’s majesty rides he there;
Royal the honors he dearly bought—