University of Virginia Library

TO THE RIGHT HON. JOHN LORD CUTS, At the Siege of Namur.

The Hardy Soldier.

I

O why is man so thoughtless grown?
‘Why guilty souls in haste to die?
‘Vent'ring the leap to worlds unknown,
‘Heedless to arms and blood they fly.

II

‘Are lives but worth a soldier's pay?
‘Why will ye join such wide extremes,
‘And stake immortal souls, in play
‘At desp'rate chance, and bloody games!

III

‘Valour's a nobler turn of thought,
‘Whose pardon'd guilt forbids her fears:
‘Calmly she meets the deadly shot,
‘Secure of life above the stars.

IV

‘But frenzy dares eternal fate,
‘And spurr'd with honour's airy dreams,
‘Flies to attack th'infernal gate,
‘And force a passage to the flames.’

V

Thus hov'ring o'er Namuria's plains,
Sung heav'nly love in Gabriel's form:
Young Thraso left the moving strains,
And vow'd to pray before the storm.

VI

Anon the thund'ring trumpet calls:
‘Vows are but wind,’ the hero cries;
Then swears by heav'n, and scales the walls,
Drops in the ditch, despairs and dies.