Then Denmark blest our chief, As death withdrew his shades from the day; While the sun looked smiling bright O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. Now joy, old England, raise While the wine cup shines in light; Full many a fathom deep, Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles, Of the brave! HOHENLINDEN. N Linden, when the sun was low, ΟΝ All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Then shook the hills, with thunder riven : But redder yet that light shall glow 'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few shall part, where many meet; The snow shall be their winding-sheet; And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. UR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered, OUR And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore 'Stay, stay with us, rest; thou art weary and worn!' So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers, Our very hopes belied our fears, We thought her dying when she slept, For when the morn came dim and sad, Her quiet eyelids closed-she had |