I.

Let bard on battle-field, in sounding verse, Proclaim to distant time the warrior-deed That makes a hero, whose triumphal hearse Rolls graveward o'er a thousand hearts that bleed In widowed agony. Let golden lyre Of regal Court engaged in worldly strife Clothe princely foibles with poetic fire, And crown with fame a king's ignoble life. Let chroniclers of Camp and Court proclaim A Warrior's greatness, and a Monarch's fame. Be mine with verse the tomb of one to grace Whose nobler deeds deserve a nobler place.