Hohenlinden
On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neighed To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stainèd snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens.
On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave,
Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Thomas Campbell
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Lochiels Warning
Wizard — Lochiel Wizard — Lochiel
The Exile Of Erin
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill: For his country he sign'd, when at twilight To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
The Soldiers Dream
Our bugles sang truce; for the night-cloud had lowered, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die
The River of Life
The more we live, more brief Our life's succeeding stages; A day to childhood seems a year, And years like passing ages
