War Lyrics dedicated to the friends of the dead. By A. and L. Shore. Second edition, with additions |
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SEBASTOPOL. |
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SEBASTOPOL.
Sad Hope, who watching, o'er the waves,
That fortress on the cruel shore,
Seest all around it graves on graves
Of those who once thy standard bore,
That fortress on the cruel shore,
Seest all around it graves on graves
Of those who once thy standard bore,
Hear'st tender groan or piercing taunt,
O'er those brave Outcasts struggling there—
Till faint and fainter grows thy chant,
More and more like thy sigh, Despair!
O'er those brave Outcasts struggling there—
Till faint and fainter grows thy chant,
More and more like thy sigh, Despair!
71
Oh! look again, pale Hope, for time
Ripens to fruit thy soul's dear aim;
That darling of Imperial crime,
That stronghold of all Europe's shame—
Ripens to fruit thy soul's dear aim;
That darling of Imperial crime,
That stronghold of all Europe's shame—
Though still our war's prolonged endeavour,
She scorns with rampart, shell, and ball,
We know she cannot stand for ever,
Since France and England swore her fall.
She scorns with rampart, shell, and ball,
We know she cannot stand for ever,
Since France and England swore her fall.
New life leaps daily on her coasts,
The trenches yawn, the guns advance,
A fire is in your hearts, oh! hosts,
That fight for England and for France!
The trenches yawn, the guns advance,
A fire is in your hearts, oh! hosts,
That fight for England and for France!
Feels she the stealing flame that waits
Her bulwark? Sees she how the foe
So fiercely trembling at her gates,
Counts the long hours to lay her low—
Her bulwark? Sees she how the foe
So fiercely trembling at her gates,
Counts the long hours to lay her low—
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When eyes that wept those noblest dead,
With a stern joy that God inspires,
Shall see, like funeral torches spread,
The blazing of those winter fires?
With a stern joy that God inspires,
Shall see, like funeral torches spread,
The blazing of those winter fires?
For, from the ruins of that pile,
On which our hearts so long have broken,
Shall Europe's war-stained Freedom smile,
And the world's solemn thanks be spoken.
On which our hearts so long have broken,
Shall Europe's war-stained Freedom smile,
And the world's solemn thanks be spoken.
A. January 8, 1855.
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