FROM COPLAS OF AN ANDALUSIAN SOLDIER.
If daring deeds might win thy vows,
At nothing would I falter;
I’d dare thy father’s beetling brows,
Or those of grim Gibraltar.
I’ll seek the thickest of the strife,
And lofty deeds of glory;
My girl shall be a General’s wife,
Or mourn a lover gory.
Light batteries on the fatal field,
Their countless victims strewing,
Are the bright eyes to which I yield
For quarter meekly suing.
Thy lips are silken banners, and
Beneath their crimson lustre,
In gleaming lines the soldiers stand,
Two ranks prepared for muster.
The girl that jilts a veteran bold
To marry a clodhopper,
Would throw away the finest gold
To pick up worthless copper.