It was not long ere it must be heard,—
A shrilling, ceaseless sound:
It was no noise of the strife afar,
Or the sappers underground.
It was the pipes of the Highlanders,
And now they play'd "Auld Lang Syne:"
It came to our men like the voice of God,
And they shouted along the line.
And they wept and shook one another's hands,
And the women sobb'd in a crowd:
And every one knelt down where we stood,
And we all thank'd God aloud.
That happy day when we welcomed them,
Our men put Jessie first;
And the General took her hand, and cheers
From the men, like a volley, burst.
And the pipers' ribbons and tartan stream'd
Marching round and round our line;
And our joyful cheers were broken with tears,
For the pipes play'd "Auld Lang Syne."
A BALLAD OF WAR.
BY MENELLA BUTE SMEDLEY.
(By permission of Messrs. Isbister & Co.)
"Oh! were you at war in the red Eastern land?
What did you hear, and what did you see?
Saw you my son, with his sword in his hand?
Sent he, by you, any dear word to me?"
"I come from red war, in that dire Eastern land;
Three deeds saw I done one might well die to see;
But I know not your son with his sword in his hand;
If you would hear of him, paint him to me."