 | English melodies |  |
279
THE TRUMPET HAD SOUNDED.
The trumpet had sounded—
The drum beat to arms—
But he stay'd yet to bless her,
And swear by her charms,
That no foreign beauty,
Nor riches—nor power—
Should find him forgetting
His own English flower!
He kiss'd her fair ringlets,
One look—and away:—
He pass'd like the sunlight,
And dark grew the day!
The drum beat to arms—
But he stay'd yet to bless her,
And swear by her charms,
That no foreign beauty,
Nor riches—nor power—
Should find him forgetting
His own English flower!
He kiss'd her fair ringlets,
One look—and away:—
He pass'd like the sunlight,
And dark grew the day!
There was gleaming of falchion
To slay and deform;
There was hissing of bullet,
Like hail through the storm!
There was waving of standard—
And tossing of plume—
'Mid war-cry and death-cry
And battle's red gloom:
But the Victor triumphant
Return'd with proud name,
And the heart of a Princess
Was won by his fame!
To slay and deform;
There was hissing of bullet,
Like hail through the storm!
280
And tossing of plume—
'Mid war-cry and death-cry
And battle's red gloom:
But the Victor triumphant
Return'd with proud name,
And the heart of a Princess
Was won by his fame!
A war for a moment
His bosom assail'd,
'Twixt honour and riches!—
But honour prevail'd:
Still true to his station
And her he lov'd best,
The light of temptation
Grew dim in his breast:
And the Hero hath taken
His love's little hand,—
More bless'd than espousing
The queen of the land!
His bosom assail'd,
'Twixt honour and riches!—
But honour prevail'd:
Still true to his station
And her he lov'd best,
The light of temptation
Grew dim in his breast:
And the Hero hath taken
His love's little hand,—
More bless'd than espousing
The queen of the land!
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