At length the news ran through the land THE PRINCE had come again! For Home That night the fiery cross was sped and Country O'er mountain and through glen; And our old baron rose in might, Like a lion from his den, And rode away across the hills With the valiant Scottish cavaliers, He was the first that bent the knee He gave his soul to God, Like a good old Scottish cavalier, Oh never shall we know again The fair white rose has faded From the garden where it grew, For Home and Country And no fond tears save those of heaven, The glorious bed bedew Of the last old Scottish cavalier All of the olden time! WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN. The Song of the Camp “Give us a song!" the soldiers cried, When the heated guns of the camps allied The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay, grim and threatening, under; There was a pause. A guardsman said: Sing while we may, another day They lay along the battery's side, Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, They sang of love, and not of fame; Each heart recalled a different name, Rose like an anthem rich and strong,- Dear girl! her name he dared not speak; Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder. Beyond the darkening ocean burned And once again a fire of hell Rained on the Russian quarters, And bellowing of the mortars! And Irish Nora's eyes are dim For a singer dumb and gory; And English Mary mourns for him Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest The bravest are the tenderest, The loving are the daring. For Home and Country BAYARD TAYLOR. For Home and Country Border Ballad March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale; Why the de'il dinna ye march forward in order? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale! All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border! Flutters above your head, Many a crest that is famous in story. Sons of the mountain glen, Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory. Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing; Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing; Come with the buckler, the lance and the bow. Trumpets are sounding; War-steeds are bounding; Stand to your arms and march in good order. Tell of the bloody fray When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. From "The Monastery." SIR WALTER SCOTT. |