Page:He comes from the wars (1).pdf/3

3 Illusion and love chase the battle's alarms,

He shall dream that his. Mistress lies lock'd in his arms;

He shall feel on his lips the sweet warmth of her kiss:

Ah! Warrior, wake not, such slumber is bliss.

Rest, Warrior, rest-Rest, Warrior, rest

Oh! the days are gone, when beauty bright

My heart's chain wove;

When my dream of life from morn 'till night,

Was love, still love!

New hope may bloom

And days may come,

Of milder, calmer beam,

But there's nothing half so sweet in life,

As love's young dream!

Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life,

As love's young dream!

Tho' the bard to purer fame may soar,

When wild youth's past;

Tho' he win the wise, who frown'd before,

To smile at last;

He'll never meet

A joy so sweet

In all his noon of fame,