Here once was a man—free, blessed, brave and handsome.—“Seeking the bubble reputation, even at the cannon’s mouth.”
Now, behold, we have gone down to where his body had been laid away, and, instead of a form, there is a dark line of mold where the coffin had been, part of the sole of a cavalry boot, a few bones and a skull.
“Behold this ruin! ’Twas a skull
Once of ethereal spirit full.
This narrow cell was life’s retreat,
This space was Thought’s mysterious seat.
What beauteous visions filled this spot!
What dreams of pleasures long forgot!
Nor hope, nor joy, nor love, nor fear,
Have left me trace of record here.