Coblentz

By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,
There is a small and simple pyramid,
Crowning the summit of the verdant mound;
Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid,
Our enemy's; but let not that forbid
Honor to Marceau, o'er whose early tomb
Tears, big tears, gushed from the rough soldier's lid,
Lamenting and yet envying such a doom, —
Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume.

Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career:
His mourners were two hosts, —his friends and foes,—
And fitly may the stranger lingering here
Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose;
For lie was Freedom's champion, one of those,
The few in number, who had not o'erstept
The charter to chastise which she bestows
On such as wield her weapons: he had kept
The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.