Laugh they?-when sounds the hollow drum, And banded legions onward come, And life is won by ready sword, By strength to strike, and skill to ward, Close to the Clansman's side is seen Looked on the scene of blood, and smiled; Toyed with the sabre of the Blues Long ere he knew its hellish use; Yet, when he hears the battle-cry, The eve on which his comrades found him, He will not quit what time has made His cheerful hearth, and humble cot; As constant, and as dear a home. Such are the hearts of steel, whom war Binds in their cradle to his car, And leaves them in their latter day, With honor, medals, and half-pay, Burthened with all the cares of life, Repentance-asthma-and a wife. And what am I, who thus can choose Such subject for so light a muse? Who wake the smile, and weave the rhyme Mary! thou vision loved and wept, The dreamless sleep of those that die; A throb of madness and of pain Shot through my heart, and through my brain; Though time is stamped upon my brow; And o'er my memory's fading page And blots all images-save thine. Thou left'st me—and I did become An alien from my house and home; A phantom in life's busy dream; A bubble on misfortune's stream; Condemned through varying scenes to rove, With nought to hope, and nought to love; No inward motive, that can give Or fear to die, or wish to live. Away! away! Death rides the breeze! There is no time for thoughts like these; Hark! from the foeman's distant camp I hear their chargers' sullen tramp; On! valiant Britons, to the fight! On! for St. George, and England's right! Green be the laurel-bright the meed, Of those that shine in martial deed! Short be the pang-swift pass the breath Of those that die a Soldier's death! THE COUNTY BALL. "Busy people, great and small, Anon. THIS is a night of pleasure! Care, I shake thee from me! do not dare. · To stir from out thy murky cell, Where, in their dark recesses, dwell Thy kindred Gnomes, who live to nip The rose on Beauty's cheek and lip. Until, beneath their venom❜d breath, Life wears the pallid hue of Death. Avaunt! I shake thee from me, Care! The gay, the youthful, and the fair, From "Lodge," and "Court," and "House," and "Hall," Are hurrying to the County Ball. |