"And grateful was that sound to hear, For he was full of life and joy, The mess-room pet—to each one dear Was that kind, gay, light-hearted boy. —The veriest churl in all our band Had aye a smile for Andrew Brand.—
"—Nay, glare not as I name thy name! That threat'ning hand, that fearful brow Relax—avert that glance of flame! Thou seest I do thy bidding now! Vex'd Spirit, rest!—'twill soon be o'er,— Thy blood shall cry to Heaven no more!
"Enough—we journey'd on—the walk Was long,—and dull and dark the day,— And still young Andrew's cheerful talk And merry laugh beguiled the way; Noon came—a sheltering bank was there,— We paused our frugal meal to share.
"Then 'twas, with cautious hand, I sought To prove my charge secure,—and drew The packet from my vest, and brought The glittering mischief forth to view, And Andrew cried,—No!—'twas not He!— It was The Tempter spoke to me!
"But it was Andrew's laughing voice That sounded in my tingling ear, 'Now, Gervase Matcham, at thy choice,' It seem'd to say, 'are gawds and gear, And all that wealth can buy or bring, Ease,—wassail,—worship,—every thing!
"'No tedious drill, no long parade, No bugle call at early dawn;— For guard-room bench, or barrack bed, The downy couch, the sheets of lawn And I thy Page,—thy steps to tend, Thy sworn companion,—servant,—friend!
—"He ceased—that is, I heard no more, Though other words pass'd idly by, And Andrew chatter'd as before, And laugh'd—I mark'd him not—not I. 'Tis at thy choice!' that sound alone Rang in mine ear—voice else was none.
"I could not eat,—the untasted flask Mocked my parch'd lip,—I passed it by. 'What ails thee, man?' he seem'd to ask.— I felt, but could not meet his eye.— 'Tis at thy choice!'—it sounded yet,— A sound I never may forget.
—"'Haste! haste! the day draws on,' I cried, 'And, Andrew, thou hast far to go!'— 'Hast far to go!' the Fiend replied Within me,—'twas not Andrew—no! 'Twas Andrew's voice no more—'twas He Whose then I was, and aye must be!
—"On, on we went;—the dreary plain Was all around us—we were Here! Then came the storm,—the lightning,—rain,— No earthly living thing was near, Save one wild Raven on the wing, —If that, indeed, were earthly thing!