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Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still !


SCOTLAND, 1771-1832

“Soldier, Rest!”

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;
Dream of battle-fields no more,

Days of danger, nights of waking,
In our isle's enchanted hall,

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,

Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;
Dream of battle-fields no more,

Morn of toil, nor night of waking.



No rude sound shall reach thine ear,

Armor's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here,

Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come,

At the daybreak from the fallow,


And the bittern sound his drum,

Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here;
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.


Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;

While our slumb'rous spells assail ye,
Dream not with the rising sun,

Bugles here shall sound reveille.
Sleep! the deer is in his den;

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,

How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugle sounds reveille.



Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west;
Through all the wide border his steed was the best; 20
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none;
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske River where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; 5 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all :

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 10 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)

"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”

“I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied;

Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — 16 And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.”

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, 20 He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.

She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,
"Now tread we a measure !” said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and

plume; And the bride-maidens whisper'd, “'Twere better by

far, To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochin



One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger

stood near : So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! “She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young



There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby

clan; Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and

they ran : There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?



AMERICA, 1780–1843

The Star-Spangled Banner1

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last

gleaming Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the

clouds of the fight O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly

streaming! 5 And the rocket’s red glare, the 'bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still

there. O! say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?


On that shore dimly see through the mists of the deep Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence

reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, now. conceals, now discloses ? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,


The song is taken as it appears in Stedman and Hutchinson's Library of American Literature, vol. iv. p. 419. The text, slightly different from the common one, corresponds to the facsimile a copy made by Mr. Key in 1840,

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