THY DAYS ARE DONE. 1. THY days are done, thy fame begun; Thy country's strains record The triumphs of her chosen Son, The slaughters of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he won, The freedom he restored! 2. Though thou art fall'n, while we are free Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee Disdain'd to sink beneath: Within our veins its currents be, Thy spirit on our breath! 3. Thy name, our charging hosts along, Shall be the battle-word! Thy fall, the theme of choral song To weep would do thy glory wrong; SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE. 1. WARRIORS and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path : Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath! 2. Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet! 3. Farewell to others, but never we part, SAUL. 1. THOU whose spell can raise the dead, "Samuel, raise thy buried head! King, behold the phantom seer!" Earth yawn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud: His hand was wither'd, and his veins were dry; 2. "Why is my sleep disquieted? "Who is he that calls the dead? "Is it thou, Oh King? Behold "Bloodless are these limbs, and cold: "Such are mine; and such shall be "Thine to-morrow, when with me: "Ere the coming day is done, "Such shalt thou be, such thy son. "Fare thee well, but for a day; "Then we mix our mouldering clay. "Thou, thy race, lie pale and low, "Pierced by shafts of many a bow; "And the falchion by thy side "To thy heart, thy hand shall guide: "Crownless, breathless, headless fall, "Son and sire, the house of Saul!" |