The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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THE MUFFLED DRUM.
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
19
THE MUFFLED DRUM.
The muffled drum was heard
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull deep rolling sound,
Which told the hamlets round
Of a soldier's burial rite.
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull deep rolling sound,
Which told the hamlets round
Of a soldier's burial rite.
But it told them not how dear,
In a home beyond the main,
Was the warrior youth laid low that hour,
By a mountain-stream of Spain.
In a home beyond the main,
Was the warrior youth laid low that hour,
By a mountain-stream of Spain.
The oaks of England waved
O'er the slumbers of his race,
But a pine of the Ronceval made moan
Above his last lone place;
O'er the slumbers of his race,
But a pine of the Ronceval made moan
Above his last lone place;
When the muffled drum was heard
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull deep rolling sound
Which call'd strange echoes round
To the soldier's burial rite.
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull deep rolling sound
Which call'd strange echoes round
To the soldier's burial rite.
Brief was the sorrowing there,
By the stream from battle red,
And tossing on its wave the plumes
Of many a stately head:
By the stream from battle red,
And tossing on its wave the plumes
Of many a stately head:
20
But a mother—soon to die,
And a sister—long to weep,
Even then were breathing prayers for him,
In that home beyond the deep;
And a sister—long to weep,
Even then were breathing prayers for him,
In that home beyond the deep;
While the muffled drum was heard
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull deep rolling sound,
And the dark pines mourn'd round,
O'er the soldier's burial rite.
In the Pyrenees by night,
With a dull deep rolling sound,
And the dark pines mourn'd round,
O'er the soldier's burial rite.
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |