THE TAKING OF SEBASTOPOL.[40]
Oh, might I flee to Araby the blest,
The world forgetting, but its gifts possessed,
Where fair-eyed peace holds sway from shore to shore,
And war's shrill clarion frights the air no more.
Heard ye the cloud-compelling blast[41] awake
The slumbers of the inhospitable lake?[42]
Saw ye the banner in its pride unfold
The blush of crimson and the blaze of gold?
Raglan and St. Arnaud, in high command,