When fevered cares in the spirit start,
As a pine, when the mountain is swathed in flame,
Keeps green and fresh in his spicy heart!
Thou shalt go where the battle clarions blare,
With the fierce, heroic rage of old;
The lust of the soldier thy brow shall wear—
Thy heart shall swell like a banner’s fold.
In the shrieking hail thou shalt stand, my frame,
Nor shrink from the path of thine arm’s employ,
When the thews are steel and the veins are flame,