THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.-Campbell.

OUR bugles sang truce,* for the night-cloud
had lowered,

And the sentinel* stars set their watch in the
sky,

And thousands had sunk on the ground over-
powered,

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

5 When reposing that night on my pallet*

straw,

*

of

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the
slain,

At the dead of the night a sweet vision * I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle- field's dreadful
array,'

*

10 Far, far, I had roamed on a desolate* track;
"Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me
back.

*

I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft
In life's morning march,* when my bosom was

young;

our

bugles sang truce, the signal to time was sounded on cease fighting for a

one who

the bugle.
Sentinel,
keeps guard.

Pallet, a small bed. Wolf-scaring faggot, fires lighted to

frighten away the

wolves and other beasts of prey from

the camp, and from the slain on the

battle-field.

Vision, something seen in a dream. Array, sight, appear

Life's morning march, days of child

hood.

15 I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Pledged we the wine- Then pledged we the wine-cup,* and fondly I

cup, drank to each

other's health.

Fain, glad.

swore

From my home and my weeping friends never
to part;

My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of
heart.

“Stay, stay with us! rest! thou art weary and
worn!

And fain

*

was their war-broken soldier to stay;

But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

20

FROM INDIA.*—W. C. Bennett.

WILLIAM COX BENNETT (1820- ) was born at Greenwich. His writings are very spirited, and marked by an earnest love of country. He is the author of Queen Eleanor's Vengeance, Our Glory Roll, Ballad History of England and the States that have sprung from her, besides many other poems.

Он, come you from the Indies? and, soldier,

can you tell

Aught of the gallant 90th, and who are safe and

well?

O soldier! say my son is safe,—for nothing else
I care,-

And you shall have a mother's thanks, shall have
a widow's prayer."

"Oh, I've come from the Indies,-I've just come

from the war;

And well I know the 90th, and gallant lads they

are;

com- From colonel * down to rank and file * I know
my comrades well;

mander of a regiment

of soldiers.

Rank and file, the And news I've brought you, mother, your Robert

common soldiers as

bade me tell."

“And do you know my Robert, now? Oh, tell

me, tell me true;

5

O soldier! tell me word for word all that he said ΙΟ to you;

* India, a peninsula in the south of Asia, the greater portion of which is under British rule.

His very words,-my own boy's words,-oh, tell me

every one:

You little know how dear to his old mother is my son."

"Through Havelock's* fights and marches the 90th Havelock, Sir were there,

Henry Havelock was one

of the great

generals during the In

In all the gallant 90th did your Robert have his share : 15 Twice he went into Lucknow,* untouched by steel or ball; And you may bless your God, old dame, that brought dian Mutiny him safe through all."

20

25

"Oh, thanks unto the living God, that heard his
mother's prayer,

The widow's cry that rose on high her only son to spare!
Oh, blessed be God, that turned from him the sword
and shot away!

And what to his old mother did my darling bid you say?"

"Mother, he saved his colonel's life, and bravely it was

done;

of 1857. Lucknow, a

city on the

river Goomtee, and capi

tal of Oude,

in India.

In the despatch* they told it all, and named and praised Despatch, the your son;

account of the battle sent by the

A medal and a pension's his,-good luck to him I say,
And he has not a comrade but will wish him well to-day." commander

"Now, soldier, blessings on your tongue! O husband!
that you knew

How well our boy pays me this day for all I have gone
through,-

All I have done and borne for him the long years since

you're dead!

But, soldier, tell me how he looked, and all my Robert
said."

*

"He's bronzed and tanned and bearded, and you'd
hardly know him, dame;

30 We've made your boy into a man, but still his heart's

the same:

to head-quar

He's bronzed.

the heat of

the sun had

caused his skin to turn

For often, dame, his talk's of you, and always to one tone: brown.
But there! his ship is nearly home, and he'll be with

you soon."

"Oh, is he really coming home, and shall I really see
My boy again, my own boy home-and when, when will

it be?

35 Did you say soon?"

"Well, he is home-keep cool, old

dame-he's here!"

"O Robert! my own blessèd boy!" "O mother, mother

dear!"

JOHN GILPIN.-Cowper.

WILLIAM COWPER (1731-1800), the most popular poet of his day, was born in Hertfordshire. He suffered during the greater part of his life from fits of insanity. Chief poems: The Task, Table-Talk, John Gilpin, &c.

40

So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in ;
Six precious souls, and all agog

*

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip; round went the wheels;
Were never folks so glad;
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside * were mad.

45 John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again.