THE YOUTH’S CABINET.

 

We thought, as we hollow’d his narrow bed,
And smooth’d down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow.

Lightly they'll talk o’er the spirit that’s gone,
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him;

But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring,
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory.