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dreams.
But now I dread the night,—it holds
Within its weary bounds
Strife, griefs and fears, red battle-fields,
And spectre-haunted grounds!
Within its weary bounds
Strife, griefs and fears, red battle-fields,
And spectre-haunted grounds!
One night there sounded through my dreams
A trumpet's stirring peal,
And then methought I went forth armed,
And clad in glittering steel,
And sprang upon a battle steed,
And led a warrior band,
And we swept, a flood of fire and death,
Victorious through the land!
O, what wild rapture 't was to mark
My serried ranks advance,
And see amid the foe go down
Banner and plume and lance!
The living trampled o'er the dead,—
The fallen, line on line,
Were crushed like grapes at vintage-time,
And blood was poured like wine!
My sword was dripping to its hilt,
And this small, girlish hand,
Planted the banner, lit the torch,
And waved the stern command.
A trumpet's stirring peal,
And then methought I went forth armed,
And clad in glittering steel,
And sprang upon a battle steed,
And led a warrior band,
And we swept, a flood of fire and death,
Victorious through the land!
O, what wild rapture 't was to mark
My serried ranks advance,
And see amid the foe go down
Banner and plume and lance!
The living trampled o'er the dead,—
The fallen, line on line,
Were crushed like grapes at vintage-time,
And blood was poured like wine!
My sword was dripping to its hilt,
And this small, girlish hand,
Planted the banner, lit the torch,
And waved the stern command.
