Page:Halleck.djvu/64

44 Then danger hovers o’er the Invader’s march, On raven wings, hushing the song of fame,
 * And glory’s hues of beauty
 * Fade from the cheek of death.

A foe is heard in every rustling leaf, A fortress seen in every rock and tree,
 * The eagle eye of art
 * Is dim and powerless then,

And war becomes a people’s joy, the drum Man’s merriest music, and the field of death
 * His couch of happy dreams,
 * After life’s harvest-home.

He battles heart and arm, his own blue sky Above him, and his own green land around,
 * Land of his father’s grave,
 * His blessing and his prayers:

Land where he learned to lisp a mother’s name, The first beloved in life, the last forgot,
 * Land of his frolic youth,
 * Land of his bridal eve—

Land of his children—vain your columned strength, Invaders! vain your battles’ steel and fire!
 * Choose ye the morrow’s doom—
 * A prison or a grave.