I saw their spears, on that red field,
Flash as in time gone by-
Chas'd to the seas, without his shield
I saw the Persian fly.

I woke the sudden trumpet's blast
Call'd to another fight-
From visions of our glorious past,
Who doth not wake in might?

TROUBADOUR SONG.

THE warrior cross'd the ocean's foam,
For the stormy fields of war—
The maid was left in a smiling home,
And a sunny land afar.

His voice was heard where javelin showers Pour'd on the steel-clad line;

Her step was 'midst the summer-flowers, Her seat beneath the vine.

His shield was cleft, his lance was riven, And the red blood stain'd his crest; While she-the gentlest wind of heaven Might scarcely fan her breast.

Yet a thousand arrows pass'd him by,
And again he cross'd the seas;
But she had died, as roses die,
That perish with a breeze.

As roses die, when the blast is come,

For all things bright and fairThere was death within the smiling home, How had death found her there?

THE TRUMPET.

THE trumpet's voice hath rous'd the land, Light up the beacon-pyre!

-A hundred hills have seen the brand

And wav'd the sign of fire.

A hundred banners to the breeze

Their gorgeous folds have cast

And hark!-was that the sound of seas?

-A king to war went past.

The chief is arming in his hall,

The peasant by his hearth; The mourner hears the thrilling call, And rises from the earth.

The mother on her first-born son,

Looks with a boding eye

They come not back, though all be won,

Whose young hearts leap so high.

The bard hath ceas'd his song, and bound The falchion to his side;

E'en for the marriage altar crown'd,

The lover quits his bride.

And all this haste, and change, and fear,
By earthly clarion spread!-
How will it be when kingdoms hear
The blast that wakes the dead?