[From Childe Harold.] THERE was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love, to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriagebell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! And nurtured in convulsion. Of Arm! thy sire These were the elements, thine no less. and As yet such are around thee, - but thy fire Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher. Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea, And from the mountains where I arm! it is-it is - the cannon's opening roar! |