THE SOLDIER'S ADIEU.
Ah! Clara, cease—those silent tears
Steal down thy cheeks in vain;
Kind hope shall chase away thy fears,
Till I return again:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
Why should we lose the single hour,
Which time accords to love,
Suppress that sigh, I own its power,
Yet joy from hope improve:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
Let no foreboding fears alarm
That regulated mind,
Thy innocence shall shield from harm
Thy soldier far disjoined:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
Let idle tales of fancied wo,
Ne'er wake for me a fear,
Since honour calls, prepared I go,
Yet dread that parting tear:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
Start not my fair!—that morning gun
Proclaims 'tis dawn of day,
And now the Reveille's begun,
To hail the morning grey:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
The general-hark! Oh the adieu!
Permit a last embrace,
The troops they march, and I'll pursue,
Farewell that angel face:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.