Which lingering winter strives to bind in vain,

Thus in the tide of wo

His haughty crested foe

The monarch sweeps in one o’erwhelming wreck!

Saul.

It is the war-cry of mine ancient days

That calls me back to glory! At the sound,

Life, as in past years I was wont to live,

Thrills in my veins.—Alas! who now would speak

To me of war? Oblivion, peace, invite