The vales of our native land are strewn
With a thousand pleasant things;
The uplands rejoicing in the light
Of the morning's flashing wings;
Even there are the martyrs' rugged cairns—
The resting-place of kings!
And man outpours his heart to heaven,
And "chants his holiest hymn,"
But anon his frame is still and cold,
And his sparkling eyes are dim—
And who can tell but the home of death
Is a happier home to him?
OH, LOVE THE SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER DEAR![14]
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear—
He fell on Balaklava's plain,
Yet ere he found a soldier's bier
He blest his beauteous child again;
Though o'er the Light Brigade like rain,
War's deadly lightning swiftly fell,
On—on the squadron charged amain
Amidst that storm of shot and shell!
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,
A jewel in his heart was she,
Whose noble form disdain'd the storm,
And, Freedom, fought and died for thee!
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear—
Even like a knight of old romance,
Brave Cardigan, disdaining fear,
Heard but the bugle sound—advance!
And paler droops the flower of France,
And brighter glows proud England's rose,
As charge they on with sabre-glance,
And thunders thickening as they close!
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, &c.
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,
And be thy grateful kindness shewn;
And still her father's name revere,
For, oh, 'tis dearer than her own;
And tell his deeds in battle done,
And how he fearless faced the foe,
And urged the snorting war-horse on
With death above, around, below!
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear, &c.
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,
Who lowly bends at sorrow's shrine;
Her father's glorious deeds appear,
And laurels round her brow entwine;
In that full eye, that seems divine,
Her sire's commanding ardour glows;
His blood, that flow'd for thee and thine,
Within his daughter's bosom flows!
Oh, love the soldier's daughter dear,
A jewel in his heart was she,
Whose noble form disdain'd the storm,
And, Freedom, fought and died for thee!