Page:The Amulet for 1826.pdf/143



Trumpet's voice hath roused the land,
 * Light up the beacon-pyre!

A hundred hills have seen the brand,
 * And waved the sign of fire!

A hundred banners to the breeze
 * Their gorgeous folds have cast,

And, hark! was that the sound of seas?
 * A king to war went past!

The chief is arming in his hall, The peasant by his hearth; The mourner hears the thrilling call, And rises from the earth! The mother on her first-born son Looks with a boding eye;— They come not back, tho' all be won, Whose young hearts leap so high.