Who, when the trumpet-blast of victory
Hath sounded o'er our graves, with come to them
With holy awe, as if they were inscribed
With that most glorious epitaph of old:
"Siste, viator, an heroem calcas:
Stop, wand'rer, else thou treadest on a hero!"
And as none else but thou alone wilt be
The last defender of the Alamo,
So, too, defend by writ and speech our cause
Hereafter, when our memory is assailed
By slanderous and infamous detraction.
This my behest to thee as thy commander,
To which as friend I add this humble prayer:
So soon thou canst, to hand this note of mine
To Elsie Bradburn, where she ever be.
To tell her, that my bosom's latest throb
Will beat for her, that with her name endeared
Upon my lips, my soul will soar to heaven.
Wilt, friend, thou promise to fulfill these trusts?
I will, I will! Oh, Travis, what a parting!
Thanks, thanks, my friend! And now all earthly tasks
Attended to, farewell, until we meet
Before the throne of God in Heaven above.
[Travis embraces Smith with mute emotion. Suddenly he tears himself from the Chaplain's arms, and with his