| |
| FAREWELL, awhile, domestic charms, | |
| My home and country urge to arms, | |
| ’Mid danger’s ranks, and war’s alarms, | |
| Which stern invaders spread; | |
| And if, perchance, a fatal bourne | 5 |
| Forbid the soldier’s safe return, | |
| A nation’s gratitude shall mourn, | |
| And honor crown, the dead! | |
| Farewell the gathering of the year; | |
| Release the share and grasp the spear; | 10 |
| Droop their full ears the swelling grain, | |
| The verdant grass, the luscious cane; | |
| The harvest of another soil | |
| Demands each nerve in manly toil; | |
| Where blood alone may compost yield, | 15 |
| And brand and bayonet reap the field. | |
| Delight not me the meed of fame, | |
| The fleeting breath of proud acclaim, | |
| Or warrior’s wreath, or valiant name,— | |
| Far other joys are mine; | 20 |
| I court not battle’s awful brunt, | |
| Nor honors, in the dareful front; | |
| But, my dear country, call’st thou aid, | |
| Behold, I grasp the freeman’s blade, | |
| And be my service thine! * * * * | 25 |
| And nearer now the foemen drew, | |
| They press thy borders, Bienvenu, | |
| Stern as the angry winds that blew | |
| Across thy startled bed! | |
| And dark and dismal was the night, | 30 |
| When first they struck the deep’ning fight; | |
| Save when anon, a mournful star, | |
| Streamed feebly from its sphere afar: | |
| The troops a cloud—their weapons steel’d, | |
| The brightest star-light of the field, | 35 |
| A fearful vision spread! | |
| Silent they moved along the lake, | |
| No war sound bids the slumb’ring wake, | |
| Nor dashing oars the waters break, | |
| To rouse th’ unconscious state; | 40 |
| But from her hills of living green, | |
| Columbia’s guardian maid had seen, | |
| She roused at once to intervene, | |
| And save her sons from fate! | |
| Who, rising o’er the watery bed, | 45 |
| To taint the soil with hostile tread, | |
| The margin bold now climbs? | |
| A warrior stern, who sterner band, | |
| To conquest oft, in Spanish land, | |
| Had led in former times! | 50 |
| Long shall Iberia feel the aid | |
| She gather’d from his biting blade, | |
| When, urged by bold Napoleon, | |
| Invading France came madly on. | |
| And mingling now the conflict, rang | 55 |
| Helmet and spear, the battle clang. | |
| But wherefore, warrior, art thou here, | |
| Feels thy bold heart no touch of fear, | |
| When freemen seize the guardian spear, | |
| Their country to defend? | 60 |
| Nought may thy former deeds avail, | |
| No more thy hope shall conquest hail, | |
| The laurels of thy brow grow pale, | |
| Prophetic of thy end! * * * * | |
| That time, full many a widowed dame, | 65 |
| And orphan, shall with anguish name, | |
| And grief the burning tear drop claim, | |
| Of every hope deprived! | |
| Whose breast stern war’s resistless aim, | |
| With misery hath rived! | 70 |
| And mark the Caledonian maid, | |
| Of glowing cheek, of auburn braid, | |
| Blue Cheviot’s sloping height above, | |
| She rolls her soft blue eyes of love | |
| Along the western sky-bound wave, | 75 |
| Anxious to view the bark so brave, | |
| That bears her soldier home; | |
| But, ah! the unrelenting glaive, | |
| Has sent him to an early grave, | |
| No tender friend to soothe or save | 80 |
| From carnage and the tomb! | |
| On Mississippi’s side he fell, | |
| Whose rapids roared his dying knell! | |
| Glassy and dim that manly eye, | |
| Which lighted love and ecstacy; | 85 |
| Once flamed with hope of proud renown, | |
| And looked the fear of danger down! | |
| The last thought of his throbbing breast, | |
| Turned to the maid he erst had press’d, | |
| When with fond hope supremely bless’d, | 90 |
| No fields of conflict known: | |
| But Hope, thou art a baseless dream, | |
| That wak’st to life thy mimic theme; | |
| For mark the change!—the big tears trace | |
| Their passage down his pallid face, | 95 |
| He heaves the parting groan! | |
| Stern War! what fateful deeds are thine, | |
| With dripping blood thy garments shine, | |
| And Ruin, Rage, with thee combine, | |
| Whose eyes wild terrors flash! | 100 |
| The Horrors form thy dreadful train, | |
| And Cruelty conducts thy wain, | |
| Of bleeding sinews is the rein, | |
| Of clotted braids each courser’s mane, | |
| Of scorpion fangs the lash! | 105 |
| The wheels thy thirsty fury draws | |
| O’er all divine and human laws; | |
| Dashing through each devoted realm | |
| Those waves which roll but to o’erwhelm; | |
| And like the flood which whilom rose, | 110 |
| Sweep from the world whate’er oppose! | |
| Such is thy worth, disastrous war, | |
| And such thy ruins, hurl’d afar, | |
| That, when the glorious day may be, | |
| For fate to strike his spear through thee, | 115 |
| Thy eulogy’s thy victim’s groans, | |
| Thy monument their bleaching bones! | |
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