So, from his morning cloud, appears
The sun of May, through summer tears.
The savage soldiery, amazed,
As on descended angel gazed;
Even hardy Brent, abash’d and tamed,
Stood half admiring, half ashamed.
VIII.
Boldly she spoke,—“Soldiers, attend!
My father was the soldier’s friend;
Cheer’d him in camps, in marches led,