For Home and Country And no fond tears save those of heaven, Of the last old Scottish cavalier All of the olden time! WILLIAM EDMONDSTO UNE 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 Will bring enough of sorrow.' 99 They lay along the battery's side, Below the smoking cannon,— Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, They sang of love, and not of fame; Each heart recalled a different name, "Annie Laurie." But all sang Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion 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 Irish Nora's eyes are dim For a singer dumb and gory: And English Mary mourns for him The loving are the daring. BAYARD TAYLOR. For Home and Country 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. Mount and make ready, then, 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. For Home and Country Come as the winds come, when Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded: Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come; See how they gather! Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset! SIR WALTER SCOTT. The Reveille Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, Lo! a nation's hosts have gathered Freemen, come! Ere your heritage be wasted," said the quick |