Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/12



If only one should fall. Hark, hark! a rush Of hurrying feet is heard amid the woods,— A ringing peal of musketry, red lights Flashing like meteors, clanging swords and shouts, Deep groans, are on the wind—the enemy Has rushed down from the mountains! Up they spring, Those friends, and each is at his post. Dark night, Oh terrible is thy shadow on the battle! Blows dealt alike on friend and foe, the dead , And dying trampled on—oh, day alone Should look upon the soldier's deeds! At length The sun rose o'er his palm and diamond land: His first light shone on blood—the morning's tears Fell over patching lips and weary brows, And quenched the death-thirst of full many a wretch Already blackening in last agony. But they are safe, those war-stars of the field, The English warriors: one desperate rush, And all gives way before them. See! they turn Their recreant enemies: the dark-eyed youth, Waving the colours, gallantly springs forth; But death is on his course! that graceful arm Is smitten in its strength. He fell, but stretched With his last grasp the banner to his friend, Who caught the flag, rushed forward as revenge Were now his only hope. Why fall those colours? Their gallant bearer never flagged before: But fate hath marked him, too: they fell together! L.E. L.