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His steps had followed, fleetest of the fleet,
The red-deer driven along its native heights
With cry of hound and horn: and, from that toil
Returned with sinews weakened and relaxed,
This generous Youth, too negligent of self,
(A natural failing which maturer years
Would have subdued) took fearlessly—and kept—
His wonted station in the chilling flood,
Among a busy company convened
To wash his Father's flock. Convulsions dire
Seized him, that self-same night; and through the space
Of twelve ensuing days his frame was wrenched,
Till nature rested from her work in death.
—To him, thus snatched away, his Comrades paid
A Soldier's honours. At his funeral hour
Bright was the sun, the sky a cloudless blue,
A golden lustre slept upon the hills;
And if by chance a Stranger, wandering there,
From some commanding eminence had looked
Down on this spot, well pleased would he have seen
A glittering Spectacle; but every face
Was pallid,—seldom hath that eye been moist
With tears—that wept not then; nor were the few
