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276

THE HEAVENLY ARMIES

The heavenly hosts are ever marching
Upon their eager way
To reach the abodes of mortal anguish:
They march both night and day.
Along the heavenly plains their banners
And plumes and keen swords shine:
The heavenly hosts are ever passing
Across earth's frontier-line.
Never was human soul beleaguered
But in some barrack-square
Far, it may be, in utmost heaven
Rang out the bugles' blare.
Never was human soul encompassed
By dark foes crowding round
Without the tramp of heavenly legions,
Without their trumpets' sound.

277

For ah! their strong celestial Leader
Sends not his aid too late.
He finds not us, as we found Gordon,
Dead at the city's gate.
Too late our “thin red line” advancing
Filed through the desert grim;
We saved a fragment of our honour,
But ah! we saved not him.
Remember this—the hosts have started.
They march by day and night:
At dawn perhaps, or in the gloaming,
They'll flash upon thy sight.
Far-off upon the highway dusty
Their plumes and helms will gleam!
And all thy night, or day, of battle
Shall end, as ends a dream.