Classic Poem

What ! neither flower nor cypress on thy grave,
While all around a hallowed garden blooms;
And Piety low bends among the tombs,
Watering with tears the earth she could not save?
But not so sleeps the " bravest of the brave; "
The Hero of a hundred battles; gory
Though be the shroud he lies in, yet nor wave,
Nor storm, nor time, can e'er efface the story
Of his high deeds. Be satisfied, great shade!
No epitaph thou need'st, or marble heap:
Thee Chivalry her gallant son hath made;
And History of thee much store will reap.
What need of monument, or tomb array'd,
When ev'n the stranger comes o'er thee to weep?