80. THE SONG OF THE CAMP.-Bayard Taylor.

AN INCIDENT OF THE CRIMEAN WAR.

Effusive and expulsive O., medium pitch, sustained force. "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,

The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated guns of the camps allied

Grew weary of bombarding.

The dark Redan, in silent scoff,

Lay, grim and threatening, under;
And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
No longer belched its thunder.

There was a pause. A guardsman said:
"We storm the forts to-morrow;

Sing while we may, another day

Will bring enough of sorrow."

They lay along the battery's side,
Below the smoking cannon;

Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde,
And from the banks of Shannon.

They sang of love and not of fame;
Forgot was Britain's glory;
Each heart recalled a different name,
But all sang "Annie Laurie."

Voice after voice caught up the song,
Until its tender passion

Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,-
Their battle-eve confession.

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,
But, as the song grew louder,
Something upon the soldier's cheek
Washed off the stains of powder.

Beyond the darkening ocean burned
The bloody sunset's embers,
While the Crimean valleys learned

How English love remembers.

And once again a fire of hell

Rained on the Russian quarters,
With scream of shot, and burst of shell,
And bellowing of the mortars!

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim

For a singer, dumb and gory;
And English Mary mourns for him
Who sang of "Annie Laurie."

Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest
Your truth and valor wearing:

The bravest are the tenderest,-
The loving are the daring.

224. Moderate Movement.

81. THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS.-Henry W. Longfellow. Effusive and expulsive O., medium and high pitch, varied melody. It was the schooner Hesperus

That sailed the wintry sea;

And the skipper had taken his little daughter

To bear him company.

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day,

And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds
That ope in the month of May.

The skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,

And he watched how the veering flaw did blow

The smoke now west now south.

Then up and spake an old sailor,
Had sailed the Spanish main,

“I pray thee put into yonder port,
For I fear a hurricane.

"Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!"

The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.

Colder and louder blew the wind,

A gale from the northeast; The snow fell hissing in the brine,

And the billows frothed like yeast.

Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;

She shuddered and paused like a frightened steed,
Then leaped her cable's length.

'Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,

And do not tremble so;

For I can weather the roughest gale,

That ever wind did blow."

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat
Against the stinging blast;

He cut a rope from a broken spar,

And bound her to the mast.

“Oh, father! I hear the church-bells ring, Oh, say, what may it be?"

""Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"And he steered for the open sea.

66

Oh, father! I hear the sound of guns,
Oh, say, what may it be?"

"Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea!"

"Oh, father! I see a gleaming light,
Oh, say, what may it be?"

But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be;

And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave On the lake of Galilee.

And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept

Toward the reef of Norman's Woe.

And ever, the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,

And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,

But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.

Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!

At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,

To see the form of a maiden fair

Lashed close to a drifting mast.

The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;

And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
On the billows fall and rise.

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow!

Christ save us all from a death like this,

On the reef of Norman's Woe!

82. MARCO BOZZARIS.-Fitz Greene Halleck.

Effusive and Explosive O., medium pitch, varied melody.
At midnight, in his guarded tent,

The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power:

In dreams, through camp and court he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams, his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet ring,—
Then pressed that monarch's throne,— a king;
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,

As Eden's garden bird.

An hour passed on,- the Turk awoke;
That bright dream was his last;

He woke to hear his sentries shriek

"TO ARMS! they come! the GREEK! the GREEK!"
He woke, to die midst flame and smoke,
And shout, and groan and saber-stroke,

And death shots falling thick and fast
As lightnings from the mountain cloud;
And heard with voice as trumpet loud,
Bozzaris cheer his band:-

"Strike,- till the last armed foe expires!
STRIKE,- for your altars and your fires!
STRIKE,- for the green graves of your sires!
GOD, and your native land!"

They fought, like brave men, long and well;
They piled that ground with Moslem slain;
They conquered: but Bozzaris fell

Bleeding at every vein.

His few surviving comrades saw

His smile, when rang their proud hurrah,
And the red field was won;

Then saw in death his eyelids close,

Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun.