Soldier! what deep spell hath bound thee?
Fiery steeds are neighing round thee—
Banners to the fresh wind play:
Rise, and arm—’tis day,’tis day!
And thou hast slumber’d long.”
“Brother! on the heathery lea
Longer yet my sleep must be;
Though the morn of battle rise,
Darkly night rolls o’er my eyes—
Brother, this is death!