What, was it a dream? am I all alone
  In the dreary night and the drizzling rain?
Hist!—ah, it was only the river’s moan;
  They have left me behind with the mangled slain.

Yes, now I remember it all too well!
  We met, from the battling ranks apart;...

Once this soft turf, this rivulet’s sands,
  Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,
And fiery hearts and armèd hands
  Encountered in the battle-cloud.

Ah! never shall the land forget
  How gushed the life-blood of her brave,—
Gushed, warm with hope...