XXX. COME from my First, ay, come! The battle dawn is nigh; And the screaming trump and the thund'ring drum Are calling thee to die! Fight as thy father fought, Fall as thy father fell, Thy task is taught, thy shroud is wrought; So-forward! and farewell! Toll ye, my Second! toll! Fling high the flambeau's light; And sing the hymn for a parted soul, Beneath the silent night! The helm upon his head, The cross upon his breast, Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed: Now take him to his rest! 15* Call ye my Whole, go, call! And let him greet the sable pall No fitter hand may crave To light the flame of a soldier's fame On the turf of a soldier's grave. (1829.) G D My First, in its usual quiet way, E Was creeping along on a wintry day, When a minstrel came to its muddy bed, With a harp on his shoulder, a wreath on his head ; Old Euclid came; he frowned a frown; He flung the harp and the green wreath down; Το my Second's neat and narrow Arch; The youth was mournful, the youth was mute; And he sits ever since on my Whole's kind lap, XXXII. AN aged man, with locks of snow, Sir Thomas Clover, Knight, to-day: "What can it mean, my pretty toy, With all its wheels, and threads, and springs ?" And, as he speaks, the wondering boy His arms around his grandsire flings: The good Knight hears with placid smile, By which his grandsire's fortunes grew: To teach them by what industry Their titles and their lands were won. XXXIII. THE Palmer comes from the Holy Land; On my Second the Prior trots away; 'Tis pleasanter, under a summer sun, My Whole leaped out of the road-side ditch, With "Stand!" to the poor man, and "Stand!" to the rich: From the Prior he strips his mantle fair; From the Palmer he wins but pity and prayer: "Tis safer, when crime is prowling wide, With rags to run, than with robes to ride. |