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Thomas Moore - After the Battle
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Night closed around the conqueror`s way, 
   And lightnings show`d the distant hill, 
Where those who lost that dreadful day 
   Stood few and faint, but fearless still. 
The soldier`s hope, the patriot`s zeal, 
   For ever dimm`d, for ever crost — 
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel, 
   When all but life and honour`s lost? 

The last sad hour of freedom`s dream, 
   And valour`s task, moved slowly by, 
While mute they watch`d, till morning`s beam 
   Should rise and give them light to die. 
There`s yet a world, where souls are free, 
   Where tyrants taint not nature`s bliss; — 
If death that world`s bright opening be, 
   Oh! who would live a slave in this?
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