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THE POST-BOY'S SONG.
15
And cool his burning fever; and there came
In answer to his prayer a gentle hand
Bearing the draught of water; and a voice
Of sympathy in foreign accent bade
The sufferer take courage, and revive.
But death was at his heart, and gasping out
The name of her whom he had doubly murdered,
He quivered in his agony, and died.
And the kind Mexic woman, with a sigh,
Kept on her way in mercy, giving life
Alike to foe or countryman; and all
Raised their weak hands, and blessed her as she passed.
THE POST-BOY'S SONG.
The night is dark, and the way is long,
And the clouds are flying fast;
The night-wind sings a dreary song,
And the trees creak in the blast:
The moon is down in the tossing sea,
And the stars shed not a ray;
The lightning flashes fearfully,
But I must on my way.
And the clouds are flying fast;
The night-wind sings a dreary song,
And the trees creak in the blast:
The moon is down in the tossing sea,
And the stars shed not a ray;
The lightning flashes fearfully,
But I must on my way.
Full many a hundred time have I
Gone o'er it in the dark,
Till my faithful steeds can well descry
Each long familiar mark:
Withal, should peril come to-night,
God have us in his care!
For without help, and without light,
The boldest well beware.
Gone o'er it in the dark,
Till my faithful steeds can well descry
Each long familiar mark:
Withal, should peril come to-night,
God have us in his care!
For without help, and without light,
The boldest well beware.
