THE VOLUNTEER.

THOU'LT go! Thou❜lt go!

In vain, the stricken wife,

A poor unconscious infant in her arms,

And these young children, climbing to thy hand
Implore thy stay. Thine aged parents bend

In prayer, and sorrow.

Hath the battle-field

Such charms for thee, that thou wilt tread on all

That love and nature give, and rush to reap

Its iron harvest?

Lo! you men,

Thy boon companions, 'neath the neighboring hedge

Do wait for thee.

And thou must go.

The vow hath past thy lips

So, hence away, and share

Such pleasures, as thy chosen course may yield;
The stirring drum, the pomp of measur'd march,

The pride of uniform, the gazer's shout

Of admiration, the alternate rest

Of idleness in camps, and toil that wastes