IN HUSH OF NIGHT.
When nightfall on the Dardan plain
Brings truce, and stilled are sounds of Mars,
And mournful, mournful moans the main,
And Simois’ ripples take the stars,—
When thoughts of home float o’er the sea
From fields afar, and heroes’ breasts,
At last from brazen corselet free,
Soft-heaving take those gentle guests,—