| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
34 |
IRISH MELODIES. |
||
|
AFTER THE BATTLE.
Night clos'd around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant bill, "Where those who lost that dreadful day
Stood few and faint, but fearless still! The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal,
For ever dimm'd, for ever crost — Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
When all but life and honour's lost ?
The last sad hour of freedom's dream,
And valour's task, mov'd slowly by, While mute they watch'd, till morning's beam
Should rise and give them light to die. There's yet a world where souls are free,
Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss ; If death that world's bright opening be,
Oh ! who would live a slave in this ? |
|||
|
'TIS SWEET TO THINK.
'Tis sweet to think, that, where'er we rove,
We are sure to find something blissful and dear,
And that, when we're far from the lips we love, We've but to make love to the lips we are near ! *
* I believe it is Marmontel who says, " Quand on n'a pas ce que Ton aime, il faut atmer ce que Ton a." — There are so many matter-of-fact people, who take such jeux d'esprit as this defence of inconstancy |
|||