Sonnets on the War :: :: University of Virginia Library

We mourn them with remorseful tenderness,
And yet, methinks, our tears should be denied
By a proud effort. When they so have died,
What is a little breathing more or less?
“Woe's me! each bosom was a Russian targe.”
“Who would not pay that priceless price to feel
The trampling thunder and the blaze of steel—
The terror and the splendour of the charge?”
“In vain that human thunderbolt was flung—
In vain 'twas shivered.” “At the word they sprung
In one wild light of sword and gleaming corse,
And at the terrible beauty of their look
Death stood dismayed. Jove! how the cowards shook
When on them burst that hurricane of horse!”