Weep not for him for whom the night wind, sighing,

Spreads o'er his bier the banner of the brave;

But, o'er the ashes of the dead hussar,

Shout to the thunder and the trump of war.

Go weep for her who, by her Love's side sighing,

Gives to the grave the form she loved so well;

And weep for her who meets no soft replying

To the sweet story she would die to tell;

Aye, weep for her whose Love, to Lethe flying,

Left on her lip no mark of his farewell;

Oh, weep for her whose star of life is dim;

Weep, weep for her; but weep no more for him.

TARRY YE NOT IN EGYPT.

The Lord is wroth with Pharaoh's men,

Tarry ye not in Egypt!

He hath raised His strong arm to smite furrow and fen,

And he'll smite them and smite them again and again.

Tarry ye not,

Tarry ye not,

Tarry ye not in Egypt!

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