 | The battle of Niagara |  |
SONG.
I'VE loved to hear the war-horn's cry,
And panted at the drum's deep roll;
And held my breath, when—flaming high—
I've seen our starry banners fly,
As challenging the haughty sky,
They stirred the battle in my soul:
For I was so adventurous then,
I burnt to be the slave—of men.
And panted at the drum's deep roll;
And held my breath, when—flaming high—
I've seen our starry banners fly,
As challenging the haughty sky,
They stirred the battle in my soul:
For I was so adventurous then,
I burnt to be the slave—of men.
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I've looked upon the morning light,
Flushing its standard far and free;
And seen it struggle with the night,
And loved it, for it told of fight;
And every flash that triumph'd bright,
Seemed glance of glorious Liberty!
For I was fanciful and wild,
As youthful Freedom's freest child.
Flushing its standard far and free;
And seen it struggle with the night,
And loved it, for it told of fight;
And every flash that triumph'd bright,
Seemed glance of glorious Liberty!
For I was fanciful and wild,
As youthful Freedom's freest child.
I've sailed upon the dark-blue deep:
I've shouted to the eaglet soaring;
And hung me from a rocking steep,
When all but spirits were asleep;
And oh, my very soul would leap!
To hear its gallant waters roaring;
For every sound that told of life,
To me, was but the voice of strife.
I've shouted to the eaglet soaring;
And hung me from a rocking steep,
When all but spirits were asleep;
And oh, my very soul would leap!
To hear its gallant waters roaring;
For every sound that told of life,
To me, was but the voice of strife.
But, I am strangely altered now—
I love no more the bugle's voice—
The rushing wave—the plunging prow—
The mountain's tempest-clouded brow—
The daring—the exulting flow
Of all that made me once rejoice—
I've learnt to talk of tears—and sighs—
And locks of gold—and dying eyes!
I love no more the bugle's voice—
The rushing wave—the plunging prow—
The mountain's tempest-clouded brow—
The daring—the exulting flow
Of all that made me once rejoice—
I've learnt to talk of tears—and sighs—
And locks of gold—and dying eyes!
| The battle of Niagara | |