He gazed upon the unequal fight,
His ranks all rent and gory,
And felt the shadows close like night
Round his career of glory.
“General, come lead us!” loud the cry
From a brave band was ringing--
“Lead us, and we will stop, or die,
That battery's awful singing.”
He spurred to where his heroes stood,
Twice wounded — no one knowing--
The fire of battle in his blood
And on his forehead glowing.
Oh! cursed for aye that traitor's hand,
And cursed that aim so deadly,
Which smote the bravest of the land,
And dyed his bosom redly!
Serene he lay, while past him pressed
The battle's furious billow,
As calmly as a babe may rest
Upon its mother's pillow.
So Lyon died! and well may flowers
His place of burial cover,
For never had this land of ours
A more devoted lover.
Living, his country was his bride,
His life he gave her, dying,
Life, fortune, love, he nought denied,
To her and to her sighing.
Rest, patriot, in thy hillside grave,
Beside her form who bore thee!
Long may the land thou diedst to save
Her bannered stars wave o'er thee!
Upon her history's brightest page,
And on fame's glowing portal,
She'll write thy grand, heroic page,
And grave thy name immortal.