How base the soldier's revel o'er his wine!
The tale around the encampment fire; the song!
Would I might hear, O maid! no voice but thine,
Or clash of swords that meet to right the wrong!
Why must his earthlier nature taint, or vex
Man's race? His heart is brave; his thoughts are large;
Benigner angels guard thy happier sex,
The angels that have innocence in charge.
The brightest of that band I saw in dream
To thee make way: a lily stem she bore: