Oh! thou river! dear for ever to the gallant, to the free--
Alma, roll thy waters proudly, proudly roll them to the sea.
AFTER ALMA,
(September 20, 1854.)
BY GERALD MASSEY.
Our old War-banners on the wind
Were waving merrily o'er them;
The hope of half the world behind--
The sullen Foe before them!
They trod their march of battle, bold
As death-devoted freemen;
Like those Three Hundred Greeks of old,
Or Rome's immortal Three Men.
Ah, Victory! joyful Victory!
Like Love, thou bringest sorrow.
But, O! for such an hour with thee,
Who would not die to-morrow?
With towering heart and lightsome feet
They went to their high places;
The fiery valour at white heat
Was kindled in their faces!
Magnificent in battle-robe,
And radiant, as from star-lands,
That spirit shone which girds our globe
With glory, as with garlands!
Ah, Victory! joyful Victory!
Like Love, thou bringest sorrow;
But, O! for such an hour with thee,
Who would not die to-morrow?
They saw the Angel Iris o'er
Their deluge of grim fire;
And with their life's last tide they bore
The Ark of Freedom higher!
And grander 'tis i' the dash of death
To ride on battle's billows,
When Victory's kisses take the breath,
Than sink on balmiest pillows.
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