 | Poems |  |
80
THE CALL TO ARMS.
“To the breach! the enemy doth make assault.”
Shakspeare.
Arm, arm! their spears, on the mountain's height,
Are glittering in the sun;
Their banner's unfurl'd to the morning light,
And their downward march begun.
Arm, arm! their! trumpet's echoing blast,
Floats fiercely on the wind,—
The glen is reach'd—the stream is past—
Fresh myriads throng behind—
Arm, arm! or soon the swift invader's tread,
Will crush the living, desecrate the dead.
Are glittering in the sun;
Their banner's unfurl'd to the morning light,
And their downward march begun.
Arm, arm! their! trumpet's echoing blast,
Floats fiercely on the wind,—
The glen is reach'd—the stream is past—
Fresh myriads throng behind—
Arm, arm! or soon the swift invader's tread,
Will crush the living, desecrate the dead.
81
Ye sons of a long unsullied race,
Whom glorious memories crown,
Rise! ere the darkness of shame efface
The light of your old renown.
Rise! for the stormy fight array'd,
With the flash of sword and spear,
Rise! ere red ruin's grasp is laid
On all ye hold most dear,
Ere fell destruction through our valley roams,
And death and torture revel in our homes.
Whom glorious memories crown,
Rise! ere the darkness of shame efface
The light of your old renown.
Rise! for the stormy fight array'd,
With the flash of sword and spear,
Rise! ere red ruin's grasp is laid
On all ye hold most dear,
Ere fell destruction through our valley roams,
And death and torture revel in our homes.
They come! they come! and a deepening sound
Is borne on the rising breeze,
Like the rush of waves o'er a pebbly ground,
When a tempest wakes the seas.
Arm, brothers, arm!—to a noble cause,
Our vows this day are given;
No thought of fear, no lingering pause,
No prayer—except to heaven,
But on! nor crave a loftier destiny,—
To die for freedom, or to live—the free!
Is borne on the rising breeze,
Like the rush of waves o'er a pebbly ground,
When a tempest wakes the seas.
Arm, brothers, arm!—to a noble cause,
Our vows this day are given;
No thought of fear, no lingering pause,
No prayer—except to heaven,
But on! nor crave a loftier destiny,—
To die for freedom, or to live—the free!
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