 | Fifty lyrical ballads |  |
8
THE HEART OF A SOLDIER.
The heart of a soldier
Surrenders to thee;
The Champion of Freedom
No longer is free:
He decks with his laurels
Thy sylvan retreat,
And the spoils of the conquer'd,
He lays at thy feet.
Surrenders to thee;
The Champion of Freedom
No longer is free:
He decks with his laurels
Thy sylvan retreat,
And the spoils of the conquer'd,
He lays at thy feet.
But say, were I summon'd
Again to the field,
Would'st thou bring my helmet,
My sword and my shield?
And scorning the softness
Of tearful delay,
Would'st thou urge me forward,
To horse, and away?
Again to the field,
Would'st thou bring my helmet,
My sword and my shield?
And scorning the softness
Of tearful delay,
Would'st thou urge me forward,
To horse, and away?
9
Yes! such is the duty,
And such is the pride,
Of her whom a Soldier
Hath chosen his bride:
She shares and she sweetens
His peaceful repose,
And she smiles when to battle
And glory he goes.
And such is the pride,
Of her whom a Soldier
Hath chosen his bride:
She shares and she sweetens
His peaceful repose,
And she smiles when to battle
And glory he goes.
| Fifty lyrical ballads | |