HISTORY OF JOHN SMITH.

His saddle now became his home,

His horse and he seemed one;

And he was ne'er known to dismount,

Unless he first got on.

How brave and bold a man he was,

From one small fact is clear;

Whole regiments fled before him when,-
He followed in their rear.

He was a steady soldier then,

And sober too of course,

And ne'er into a tap-room went,

Mounted upon his horse.

In fact his conduct was so good,
His Captains all confess

He never got into a scrape,—
Though always in a mess.

Though as to what fights he'd been in
Men differed,- -none denied

That the last battle he e'er fought

Was that in which he died.

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106

HISTORY OF JOHN SMITH.

The soldiers there who saw him fall,
Exclaim'd, as with one breath,

"Unless his wound's a mortal one,
It will not cause his death."

Unlike most epitaphs, John Smith's
Nought but the truth did tell;

But this none ever stopp'd to read,

Who had not learn'd to spell.

Stop, passenger and weep ;-one tear

To him you can't refuse,

Who stood-high in his regiment,

And five feet in his shoes."