16
THE TRUMPET SOUNDS A VICTORY.
He was famed for deeds of arms,
She a maid of matchless charms;
Now to him her love imparts;
One pure flame pervades both hearts;
Honour calls him to the field,
Love to conquest now must yield.
“Sweeet maid!” he cries, “again. I’ll come to thee,
When the glad trumpet sounds a victory!”
Battle now with fury glows!
Hostile blood in torrents flows!
His duty tells him to depart,
She press’d her hero to her heart,
And now the trumpet sonnds to arms,
Amid the clash of war’s alarms.
“Sweet maid !” he cries, &c.
No with love and conquest burns,
Doth subdue his mind by turns,
Death the soldier now enthralls!
With his wounds the hero falls!
She disdaining war’s alarms,
Rush’d and caught him in her arms.
“O death!” he cried, “ thou’rt welcome now to me;
For, hark! the glad trumpet sounds a victory.”
HAUD AWA’ FRAE ME, DONALD,
Haud awa, bide awa,
Haud awa frae me, Donald;
What care I for a’ your wealth,
An’ a that ye can gi’e, Donald?
