| |
| WE crown’d the hard-won heights at length, | |
| Baptiz’d in flame and fire; | |
| We saw the foeman’s sullen strength, | |
| That grimly made retire— | |
| |
| Saw close at hand, then saw more far | 5 |
| Beneath the battle-smoke | |
| The ridges of his shatter’d war, | |
| That broke and ever broke. | |
| |
| But one, an English household’s pride, | |
| Dear many ways to me, | 10 |
| Who climb’d that death-path by my side, | |
| I sought, but could not see. | |
| |
| Last seen, what time our foremost rank | |
| That iron tempest tore; | |
| He touch’d, he scal’d the rampart bank— | 15 |
| Seen then, and seen no more. | |
| |
| One friend to aid, I measur’d back | |
| With him that pathway dread; | |
| No fear to wander from our track— | |
| Its waymarks English dead. | 20 |
| |
| Light thicken’d: but our search was crown’d, | |
| As we too well divin’d; | |
| And after briefest quest we found | |
| What we most fear’d to find. | |
| |
| His bosom with one death-shot riven, | 25 |
| The warrior-boy lay low; | |
| His face was turn’d unto the heaven, | |
| His feet unto the foe. | |
| |
| As he had fallen upon the plain, | |
| Inviolate he lay; | 30 |
| No ruffian spoiler’s hand profane | |
| Had touch’d that noble clay. | |
| |
| And precious things he still retain’d, | |
| Which, by one distant hearth, | |
| Lov’d tokens of the lov’d, had gain’d | 35 |
| A worth beyond all worth. | |
| |
| I treasur’d these for them who yet | |
| Knew not their mighty wo; | |
| I softly seal’d his eyes, and set | |
| One kiss upon his brow. | 40 |
| |
| A decent grave we scoop’d him, where | |
| Less thickly lay the dead, | |
| And decently compos’d him there | |
| Within that narrow bed. | |
| |
| O theme for manhood’s bitter tears: | 45 |
| The beauty and the bloom | |
| Of less than twenty summer years | |
| Shut in that darksome tomb! | |
| |
| Of soldier-sire the soldier-son; | |
| Life’s honor’d eventide | 50 |
| One lives to close in England, one | |
| In maiden battle died: | |
| |
| And they, that should have been the mourn’d, | |
| The mourners’ parts obtain: | |
| Such thoughts were ours, as we return’d | 55 |
| To earth its earth again. | |
| |
| Brief words we read of faith and prayer | |
| Beside that hasty grave; | |
| Then turn’d away, and left him there, | |
| The gentle and the brave: | 60 |
| |
| I calling back with thankful heart, | |
| With thoughts to peace allied, | |
| Hours when we two had knelt apart | |
| Upon the lone hillside; | |
| |
| And, comforted, I prais’d the grace | 65 |
| Which him had led to be | |
| An early seeker of that Face | |
| Which he should early see. | |
| |
