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Tell how o'er prondest joys
May swift destruction sweep,
Lydia H. SIGOURNEY.
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. [THOMAS CAMPBELL, born in Glasgow, 27th July, 1777, is the
author of “Pleasures of Hope,” published in 1799, when he was only twenty-two years of age, “ Gertrude of Wyoming," published in 1809, and some of the most spirited lyrics in
the language. He died 15th June, 1844.] 1. Our bugles sang truce—for the night-cloud had
lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 2. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again. 3. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track : 'Twas autumn—and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 4. I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was
young : I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers
sung. 5. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to
part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart ; 6. “Stay, stay with us—rest, thou art weary and worn
!” And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ;But sorrow return’d with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear-melted away.
CAMPBELL. Fagot.—A bundle of sticks or brushwood, bound together
for fuel, and kept burning during the night to scare away the wolves from feeding on the unburied dead.
A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT. [ROBERT BURNS, the greatest of Scottish poets, was born 25th
January, 1759, and, after a brief and chequered existence,
died 21st July, 1796.] 1. Is there for honest poverty That hangs his head, and a' that?
Our toils obscure, and a' that;
gold. 2. What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
Their tinsel show, and a' that;
Is king o' men for a' that. 3. You see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a'thatTho' hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that;
fool. For a' that, and a' that,
His riband, star, and a' that ;
He looks and laughs at a' that.
4. A king can mak a belted knight,
make. A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man 's aboon his might
above. Guid faith, he maunna fa' that ! must not try. For a' that, and a' that,
Their dignities and a' that;
Are higher ranks than a' that. 5. Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,
superiority. For a' that, and a' that,
It's coming yet, for a' that,
THE BATTLE OF MORGARTEN.
[FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS was born in Liverpool, 25th
September, 1794, and died 16th May, 1835. Her poetry is remarkable for purity and delicacy of feeling, and a fine
sense of the beauty of nature.]
And the red grapes clustering hung,
A sound, through vaulted cave,
A sound, through echoing glen,
'Twas the tread of steel-girt men. 2. And a trumpet, pealing wild and far,
'Midst the ancient rocks was blown, Till the Alps replied to that voice of war,
With a thousand of their own.
And through the forest glooms
Flashed helmets to the day,
Like the larch-boughs in their play. 3. In Hasli's wilds there was gleaming steel,
As the host of the Austrian passed ; And the Schreckhorn's rocks, with a savage peal, Made mirth of his clarion's blast.
Up ʼmidst the Righi snows
The stormy march was heard,
And the leader's gathering ward. 4. But a band, the noblest band of all,
Through the rude Morgarten strait, With blazoned streamers, and lances tall, Moved onwards, in princely state.
They came, with heavy chains,
For the race despised so long-
The herdsman's arm is strong!
When they entered the rock-defile, And shrill as a joyous hunter's horn Their bugles rung the while.
But on the misty height,
Where the mountain-people stood,
When storms at distance brood.
And a pause—but not of fear, While the Switzers gazed on the gathering might Of the hostile shield and spear.
On wound those columns bright
Between the lake and wood,
Where the mountain-people stood.
7. The pass was filled with their serried power,
All helmed and mail-arrayed,
There were prince and crested knight
Hemmed in by cliff and flood,
Where the mountain-people stood.
Their startled foes among,
They came, like lauwine hurled
From Alp to Alp in play:
And the pines are borne away.
And the Switzers rushed from high,
Like hunters of the deer,
They stormed the narrow dell,
Was the arm of William Tell.
And a cry of wild dismay,
And the empire's banner then,
From its place of waving free,
The men of the Forest-sea.
The cuirass and the shield,
From the reapers of the field !