Valentine Verses :: :: University of Virginia Library

Whose form is that upon the beacon-height,
Close where the pile has burnt throughout the night?
She stands alone, and casts her glance along
The bloody field, where yesterday the throng
Of marshall'd hosts in glittering array,
Stood awfully prepared for wild affray?
'Tis Henrietta's: o'er her darkling brow,
The dreadful thought of battle cast its glow,
More gloomy still, as mists of morning fade
And rising sun dispels the valley's shade;
Her eye was watchful, strain'd with horror's glance
Toward the frontiers of fated France;
There mov'd the fire of tenderness and woe,
In face of terror, fearfulness of foe,
Not for herself; O no! a Father's form—
Had it escaped the battle's dreadful storm?
Was he returning victor, crown'd with fame—
Or dead, and left her to revere his name?
Awhile, the mists were ling'ring in the dell
And cloth'd the valley! Ah! she could not tell,

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But yet she look'd, and wish'd, and hoped, and sigh'd,
And felt as almost certain he had died!
Her dark black locks hung sweeping o'er a face
Which had been ruddy, but the feeling trace
Of deepest interest, made the features wan;
'Twould move with agony the soul of man,
To paint expression such a moment fix'd
On countenance where pain and hope were mix'd,
With all the sorrow suffering could give,—
Anxiety for parent: Could he live?
Ah! now she saw through dimly fading mist,
The legions moving, coming, talking, hist!
The mingled voices louder, clearer grow,
And now she hears them, more distinctly now:
The banners waving fan the morning air,—
Her father's regiment! Could he be there?
He was! he was! He saw his darling child,
And rush'd to meet her, with a spirit wild:—
“My Henrietta! thou my tender care,
“The first my victory to see and share,
“The danger's past, the battle's field is won,
“The foe is beaten, overthrown, and gone.”
“God bless thee father! may contentions cease!”
“God bless the child, God grant us lasting peace.”