Fittest refrain!
Why should the dreary pall
Round him be flung at all?
Did not our hero fall
Gallantly slain?

Catch the last word of cheer
Dropt from his tongue;
Over the volley's din,
Loud be it rung--
"_Follow me! follow me!_"--
Soldier, oh! could there be
Pæan or dirge for thee,
Loftier sung!

Bold as the Lion-heart,
Dauntless and brave;
Knightly as knightliest
Bayard could crave;
Sweet with all Sidney's grace--
Tender as Hampden's face--
Who--who shall fill the space
Void by his grave?

'Tis not _one_ broken heart,
Wild with dismay;
Crazed with her agony,
Weeps o'er his clay:
Ah! from a thousand eyes
Flow the pure tears that rise;