The camp is broken up, the air is rent

With strains of martial music, the loud neigh

Of prancing steeds, impatient for the strife,

With clang of arms, and oft-repeated shouts

Of warriors, who impatiently leap forth

With reckless hardihood to meet their doom.

With beating heart, firm step, and flashing eye,

The young recruit of glory proudly grasps

The standard he must only yield with life.

The march commences—deep excitement grows

To fiery expectation—he forgets,

Amidst the hurried interest of the scene,

The crown he fights for only can be won

Through seas of slaughter and the waste of life.

Alas! how few devoted hearts like his

Survive their first engagement with the foe.

Death strikes the hero to the dust. He falls

In honour's mantle, the triumphant cry

[Pg 19]

Of victory on his pallid lip expires!

 Prev. P 19/176 next