Impetuous roll'd the pealing drum, wild rang the trumpet swell, "God and the cause,"-" on, comrades, on! we own no papal sway,- And many a plumèd head rose high, and banners bright unroll'd, We care not for their trenches, leap light their bulwarks o'er, Sheer through their columns crashing goes our cannons' hurtling levin, Vain, vain their Flemish infantry, their Croats' thirsty spears,- Nor quail'd our northern bosoms, nor shook our iron rank, Remember Magdeburg's foul sack and Isolani's sword, Their fierce dragoons and wild Walloons, and Tilly's cruel word; When their blood like rain dash'd o'er the plain, paid the crimson reckoning well! Once more, once more, the king the first,-he ever leads the way,— OO THE BALLAD OF LUTZEN. And many a stark old warrior, and youths with locks of gold, As they reel before our steel, to the dust alike are roll'd; Rough greeting theirs, I trow, who chance that trampling troop to meet,— Now joy to Luther's churches through the borders of Almain! But where is he, Gustavus, the Lion of the North! The best and aye the bravest, from battle's cloud came forth! One true young bosom only there of all his gallant ring,- GEORGE LUNT. OOO 00 000000000 THE CRUCIFIXION. By the mourners come to weep Bound upon the accursed tree, By the prayer for them that slew "Lord! they know not what they do!" By the spoil'd and empty grave, By the souls he died to save, By the conquest he hath won, By the saints before his throne, By the rainbow round his brow, MILMAN. Champions of the Truth. DULL thunders moan around the Temple rock, And deep in hollow caves, far underneath, His footsteps timing as the low winds breathe; And with a bold gleam flush'd, full many a brow Is raised to say, "Behold me, Lord, and send." But ere the words be breathed, some broken vow Remember'd, ties the tongue; and sadly blend With faith's pure incense, clouds of conscience dim, And faltering tones of guilt mar the Confessor's hymn. Wages |