 | Ionica |  |
39
War Music.
One hour of my boyhood, one glimpse of the past,
One beam of the dawn ere the heavens were o'ercast.
One beam of the dawn ere the heavens were o'ercast.
I came to a castle by royalty's grace,
Forgot I was bashful, and feeble, and base.
For stepping to music I dreamt of a siege,
A vow to my mistress, a fight for my liege.
The first sound of trumpets that fell on mine ear
Set warriors around me and made me their peer.
Meseemed we were arming, the bold for the fair,
In joyous devotion and haughty despair:
The warders were waiting to draw bolt and bar,
The maidens attiring to gaze from afar:
I thought of the sally, but not the retreat,
The cause was so glorious, the dying so sweet.
Forgot I was bashful, and feeble, and base.
For stepping to music I dreamt of a siege,
A vow to my mistress, a fight for my liege.
The first sound of trumpets that fell on mine ear
Set warriors around me and made me their peer.
Meseemed we were arming, the bold for the fair,
In joyous devotion and haughty despair:
The warders were waiting to draw bolt and bar,
The maidens attiring to gaze from afar:
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The cause was so glorious, the dying so sweet.
I live, I am old, I return to the ground:
Blow trumpets, and still I can dream to the sound.
Blow trumpets, and still I can dream to the sound.
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