For she never has heard my name.

Only a private;--and yet I know,
When I heard the rallying call,
I was one of the very first to go,
And ... I'm one of the many who fall:
But, as here I lie, it is sweet to feel,
That my honor's without a stain;--
That I only fought for my Country's weal,
And not for glory or gain.

Only a private;--yet He who reads
Through the guises of the heart,
Looks not at the splendour of the deeds,
But the way we do our part;
And when He shall take us by the hand,
And our small service own,
There'll a glorious band of privates stand
As victors around the throne!"

The breath of the morning is heavy and chill,
And gloomily lower the mists on the hill:
The winds through the beeches are shivering low,
With a plaintive and sad _miserere_ of woe:
A quiet is over the Cottage,--a dread
Clouds the children's sweet faces,--Macpherson is dead!