Page:Poems that every child should know (ed. Burt, 1904).djvu/167

Rh He woke—to die midst flame, and smoke,

And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke,

And death-shots falling thick and fast

As lightnings from the mountain-cloud;

And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,

Bozzaris cheer his band:

"Strike—till the last armed foe expires;

Strike—for your altars and your fires;

Strike—for the green graves of your sires;

God—and your native land!"

They fought—like brave men, long and well;

They piled that ground with Moslem slain,

They conquered—but Bozzaris fell,

Bleeding at every vein.

His few surviving comrades saw

His smile when rang their proud hurrah,

And the red field was won;

Then saw in death his eyelids close

Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun.

Come to the bridal-chamber, Death!

Come to the mother's, when she feels,

For the first time, her first-born's breath;

Come when the blessed seals

That close the pestilence are broke,

And crowded cities wail its stroke;

Come in consumption's ghastly form,

The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;

Come when the heart beats high and warm

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine;

And thou are terrible—the tear,