My Low and Humble Home

My Low and Humble Home
I left my low and humble home, Far from my Father's fields to roam. My peaceful cot no more had charms, My only joy was War's alarms. I panted for the field of fight, I gaz'd upon the deathless light, Which o'er the Hero's grave is shed, The glorious memory of the dead. Ambition show'd a distant star, That shed its radiance bright and far, And pointed to a path which led O'er heaps of dying and of dead; Onward I press'd with eager feet, And War's dread thunder still would greet My reckless ears. Where'er I trod, I saw the green and verdant sod, Turn red with blood of slaughter'd foes, And Fury veil'd in smoke arose. I gain'd the envied height; and there, I sigh'd for that lone cottage, where The early hours of life flew by, On wings of youthful ecstasy. Too late I found that Glory's ray, Could never bring one happy day.