Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1831.pdf/4

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And the winds blew for Afric! How that hour, With all its hues of glory, seems to burst Again upon my vision! I behold The stately barks, the arming, the array, The crests, the banners of my chivalry Swayed by the sea-breeze, till their motion showed Like joyous life. How the proud billows foamed! And the oars flashed, like lightnings of the deep, And the tall spears went glancing to the sun, And scattering round quick rays, as if to guide The valiant unto fame! Aye, the blue heaven Seemed for that noble scene a canopy Scarce too majestic, while it rung afar To peals of warlike sound! My gallant bands! Where are ye now?

. Bid the wide desert tell Where sleep its dead! To mightier hosts than thine Hath it lent graves ere now; and on its breast Is room for nations yet!

. It cannot be, That all have perished! Many a noble man, Made captive on that war-field, may have burst His bonds like us. Cloud not this fleeting hour, Which to my soul is as the fountain's draught To the parched lip of fever, with a thought So darkly sad!

. Oh! never, never cast That deep remembrance from you! When once more Your place is midst earth's rulers, let it dwell Around you, as the shadow of your throne,