O'er-shadowing laurels deck, But lovelier wreaths entwine his neck, Exulting o'er his lot, The dangers he has braved, He clasps the dear one, hails the cot, Which his own valour saved. DAUGHTERS OF ALBION, weep: On this triumphant plain, Your fathers husbands, brethren sleep, For you and freedom slain. O gently close the eye With knots of sweetest flowers Their winding-sheet perfume; And wash their wounds with true-love showers, And dress them for the tomb. For beautiful in death The WARRIOR's corse appears, And bathed in WOMAN's tears. SONG. THE CAVALIER While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray, With the barons of England who fight for the crown? |