Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/242



on your battle-fields, ye brave! Let the pines murmur o'er your grave, Your dirge be in the moaning wave; We call you back no more!

Oh! there was mourning when ye fell, In your own vales a deep-toned knell, An agony—a wild farewell— But that hath long been o'er.

Rest with your still and solemn fame; The hills keep record of your name, And never can a touch of shame Darken the buried brow.