Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1822.pdf/32



His horse stood ready; many, too, were there, Who came to say Good by, and kindly wish To the young soldier health and happiness. It is a sweet, albeit most painful, feeling To know we are regretted. "Farewell" said And oft repeated, one last wild embrace Given to his pale mother, who stood there, Her cold hands prest upon a brow as cold, In all the bursting heart's full agony— One last last kiss—he sprang upon his horse, And urged his utmost speed with spur and rein. He is past - - - out of sight.---- The muffled drum is rolling, and the low Notes of the Death-march float upon the wind, And stately steps are pacing round that square With slow and measured tread; but every brow Is darkened with emotion, and stern eyes, That looked unshrinking on the face of death, When met in battle, are now moist with tears. The silent ring is formed, and in the midst Stands the Deserter!———Can this be the same, The young, the gallant ? and are these The laurels promised in his early dreams? Those fettered hands, this doom of open shame! Alas, for young and passionate spirits! Soon False lights will dazzle. He had madly joined The rebel banner! Oh 'twas pride to link His fate with patriot few, to fight For liberty or the grave! But he was now A prisoner; yet there he stood, as firm As though his feet were not upon the tomb: His cheek was pale as marble, and as cold; But his lip trembled not, and his dark eyes Glanced proudly round. But when they bared his breast For the death-shot, and took a portrait thence, He clenched his hands, and gasped, and one deep sob Of agony burst from him; and he hid His face awhile—his mother's look was there. He could not steel his soul when he recalled