And the soldier, laid on the battle-plain
Alone at the close of night, alone,
The passing off of some warlike-strain
Blent with his latest moan;
His thoughts all for his fatherland,
His feeble heart, his unnerved hand
Still quiveringly upraised to wield
Once more his bright sword on the field,
While wakes his fainting energy
To gain her yet one victory;