[Suggested by the attendance on Public Worship of the Cadets.—June, 1833.]
BY GEORGE D. STRONG.
Bugles upon the wind! Hushed voices in the air, And the solemn roll of the stirring drum, Proclaim the hour of prayer; While, with measured tread and downcast eye The martial train sweep silent by!
Away with the nodding plume, And the glittering bayonet now, For unmeet it were, with bannered pomp, To record the sacred vow. To earth-born strife let display be given, But the heart's meek homage alone to heaven.
The organ's mellow notes Come swelling on the breeze, And, echoing forth from arch to dome, Float richest symphonies! While youthful forms, a sunny throng, With their voices deep the strains prolong!
Deserted now the aisles— Devotion's rites are past; And again the bugle's cheering peals Are ringing on the blast! Come forth, ye brave, for your country now, With your flashing eyes and your lofty brow!
A voice from the glorious dead! Awake to the call of fame! By yon gorgeous banner's spangled folds, And by Kosciusko's name! And on Putnam's fort by the light that falls On its ivied moat and its ruined walls,
The wave-worn cavern sends Hoarse echoes from the deep, And the patriot call is heard afar From every giant steep! And the young hearts glow with the sacred fires That burned in the breasts of their gallant sires.
The glittering pageant's past, But martial forms are seen, With bounding step and eagle glance, Careering o'er the green; And lovely woman by their side, With her blushing cheek and her eye of pride.
Sunset upon the wave, Its burnished splendours pour, And the bird-like bark with its pinions sweeps Like an arrow from the shore! There are golden locks in the sunbeam, fanned On the mirrored stream by the breezes bland.