If war be wisest? If the death we woo

Be fraught with fervor there's delight in death!

There is persuasion in the tempest's breath

Not known in calm; and raptures round us flow

When, like an arrow through the bended bow

Of two fond lips, the quivering dart of love

Brings down the kiss which saints shall not bestow.

vi.

[56] 

[56]

The soldier dies for country and for kin;

T

T

T

He dies for fame that is so sweet to win;

And, part for duty, part for battle-doom,

He wends his way to where the myrtles bloom;

He gains a grave, perchance a recompense

Beyond his seeking, and a restful sense

Of soul-completion, far from any strife,

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