Excellent new song, called, The sprig of shilale, &c./The Soldier's Dream

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM

OUR bugles had ſung, for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the centinel ſtars ſet the watch in the ſky,
And thouſands had ſunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to ſleep, and the wounded to die.

When repoſing that night on my pallet of ſtraw.
By the wolf-ſcaring faggot, and guarded the ſlain,
At the dead of the night a ſweet viſion I ſaw,
And twice ere the cock crew, I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field dreadful array,
For, if I had roam'd on a deſolate track,
Till nature and ſunſhine diſcloſ'd the ſweet way
To the houſe of my father, that welcom'd me back.

I flew to the pleaſant fields, travell’d ſo oft,
In life's morning march, when my boſom was young,
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And well knew the ſtrain that the corn-reapers ſung.

Then pledg'd we the wine cup, and fondly we ſwore
From my houſe and my weeping friends never to part:
My little ones kiſs'd me a hundred times o'er,
And my wife ſobb'd aloud in the fulneſs of heart,

Stay! ſtay with us! reſt! thou art weary and worn
And fain was the war broken ſoldier to ſtay;
But ſorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.