Chapter VII · (continued 2)

Facing the foe in the front of the battle, Falling where all the fight’s fiercest was fought, Lulled to his slumber by musketry’s rattle: This was the sleeping that he would have sought! Weep not for him in the hour of his glory! Weep not for him: he has gone to his rest! Weep not for him who has crowned his life’s story; Weep for ourselves who have lost of our best! Heart of a lion and heart of a woman— Tenderness passing all words to portray; Bravery, boldness, and strength superhuman— This is the hero we weep for to-day. Thoughtful for others, himself never sparing, Restless when resting, and eager to roam, All the world over was field for his daring: Asia and Africa—both were his home. Deep ’neath the sand of the desert he’s lying; Proudly old England low over him bends; While this the epitaph sad hearts are sighing— “Bravest of soldiers and noblest of friends!” Then weep not for him in the hour of his glory! Weep not for him: he has gone to his rest! Weep not for him who has crowned his life’s story; Weep for ourselves who have lost of our best!