The shame is hers, not thine; thy latest breath
Was for thy country, and as one prepared
Thou met'st thy fate, as soldier should on guard:
And still shall time, with every rolling year
The more thy memory to France endear,
And mourned thy fate shall be by patriot and bard.
Thy death has left a blot upon the fame
Of Wellington and England, ne'er to be
Removed or justified,—alas! that he,
Who with a word thy safety could proclaim,