Page:Felicia Hemans in The Monthly Magazine Volume 2 1826.pdf/7



through gloomy forest-shades A soldier went by night; No moon-beam pierced the hollow glades, No guiding star shed light.

The darkness that about him lay Was filled with boding tones, The massy boughs that arched his way, From every leaf sent moans.

But on his vigil's midnight round The warrior cheerly passed, Unstayed by aught of mournful sound That muttered in the blast.

Where were his thoughts that lonely hour? In his far home perchance; His father's hall, his mother's bower, 'Midst the gay vines of France:

Wandering from battles lost and won, To hear and bless again The rolling of the wide Garonne, Or murmur of the Seine.

Hush! hark!—did stealing steps go by? Came not faint whispers near? No! the wild wind hath many a sigh Amidst the foliage sere.

Hark, yet again!—and from his hand What grasp hath wrenched the blade? Oh! single 'midst a hostile band, Young Soldier! thou'rt betrayed!

"Silence!" in undertones they cry, "No murmur—not a breath! The word that warns thy comrades nigh,    Shall sentence thee to death!"

Still at the bayonet's point he stood, And strong to meet the blow, And shouted, 'midst his rushing blood, "Arm, arm, Auvergne!—the foe!"

The stir, the tramp, the bugle-call, He heard their tumult grow, And sent his dying voice through all, Once more, "Auvergne! the foe!"F. H.