Here they, perhaps, shall add  name,
Censure his courage, and his conduct blame:
'Tis false, 'tis false, I did not basely yield,
I left indeed, but left a bloody field:
Believe not, future ages, ne'er believe
The vile aspersions which these wretches give;
If you too far my injur'd honour try,
Take heed, my ghost, it will, it shall, be nigh,
Rise in his face, and give the slave the lie.