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, The maid was left in a smiling home, 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, 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, There was death within the smiling home, 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. |