Stood For His Country's Glory

Who, Noteless As The Race From Which He Sprung, Saved Others' Names, But Left His Own Unsung.

Respect Was Mingled With Surprise, And The Stern Joy Which Warriors Feel In Foemen Worthy Of Their Steel.

Here Eglantine Embalm'd The Air, Hawthorne And Hazel Mingled There; The Primrose Pale, And Violet Flower, Found In Each Cliff A Narrow Bower; Fox-glove And Nightshade, Side By Side, Emblems Of Punishment And Pride, Group'd Their Dark Hues With Every Stain The Weather-beaten Crags Retain.

Each Must Drain His Share Of Pleasure, Share Of Pain.

I Will Tear This Folly From My Heart, Though Every Fibre Bleed As I Rend It Away!