Page:National Lyrics.pdf/172



didst fall in the field with thy silver hair, And a banner in thy hand; Thou wert laid to rest from thy battles there, By a proudly mournful band.

In the camp, on the steed, to the bugle's blast, Thy long bright years had sped; And a warrior's bier was thine at last, When the snows had crowned thy head.

Many had fallen by thy side, old chief! Brothers and friends, perchance; But thou wert yet as the fadeless leaf, And light was in thy glance.