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On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billowsAssail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave,The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows,Like fond weeping mourners, lean over his grave.The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle;He heeds not, he hears not, he's free from all pain;He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle;No sound can awake him to glory again!
lyman heath— The Grave of Bonaparte, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919) (incorrectly attributed as "Leonard" Heath).
