Chapter 15 GOLIAD.

"How sleep the brave who sink to rest

By all their country's wishes bless'd?

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By fairy hands their knell is rung;

By forms unseen their dirge is sung.

There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,

To bless the turf that wraps their clay;

And Freedom shall awhile repair,

To dwell a weeping hermit there."

"How shall we rank thee