Upon the soil they fought to save.
3. Now all is calm, and fresh, and still;
Alone the chirp of flitting bird,
And talk of children on the hill,
And bell of wandering kine,[624] are heard.
4. No solemn host goes trailing by
The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain;[625]
Men start not at the battle-cry;—
O, be it never heard again!
5. Soon rested those who fought; but thou,