Let no foreboding fears alarm
That regulated mind,
Thy innocence shall shield from harm
Thy soldier far disjoined:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
Let idle tales of fancied wo,
Ne'er wake for me a fear,
Since honour calls, prepared I go,
Yet dread that parting tear:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
Start not my fair!—that morning gun
Proclaims 'tis dawn of day,
And now the Reveille's begun,
To hail the morning grey:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
The general-hark! Oh the adieu!
Permit a last embrace,
The troops they march, and I'll pursue,
Farewell that angel face:
But wheresoe'er our route shall be,
My heart shall still encamp with thee.
FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.
EVENING.
The dusky shadows from the east that rise,
Steal midway o'er the heavens; the blazing car
Of Day is sunk; and Sunset's gorgeous dyes
Fade fast away. Eve's solitary star,
Watching their golden pomp with kindling eye,
New trims her virgin lamp: th' unruffled tide
Gives back a liquid light, while shadows lie
Deep, broad and strong, the wood-crown'd shores beside.
How beautiful! all earthly passions fly
This consecrated hour. The distant bird
In some sequestered wild mourns on; the fire-fly
Lights her nuptial torch; the sounds that stirr'd
Die one by one away. An hour like this
Is balm unto the soul, steeps every sense in bliss.
Ω