« 上一頁繼續 »
The sailor on his airy shrouds :
And spectres walk along the deep.
Milder yet thy snowy breezes
Pour on yonder tented shores,
Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes,
Or the dark-brown Danube roars.
Oh winds of winter ! list ye there
To many a deep and dying groan ;
At shrieks and thunders louder than your own.
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM,
Our bugles sang true—for the night-cloud had
low'r’d, And the centinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpow'r’d,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain; At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track: 'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcom'd me back.
I flew to the pleasant fields travers'd so oft
In life's morning march, when my bosom was
young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers
Then pledg'd we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,
From my home and my weeping friends never to
part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.
Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn:
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.