But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away!
Thomas Campbell.
The Soldier’s Dream.
(After T. Camp-Bell, by A. Camp-Beau.)
We were wet as the deuce; for like blazes it poured,
And the sentinels’ throats were the only things dry;
And under their tents Chobham’s heroes had cowered,
The weary to snore, and the wakeful to sigh.