'Twas pleasant to see how they stared, how they scamper'd, By furze-bush, by fern, by no obstacle stay'd, And the few that held council, were terribly hamper'd, For some were vindictive, and some were afraid. I saw they were dress'd for a masquerade train, Colour'd rags upon sticks they all brandish'd in view, And of such idle things they seem'd mightily vain, Though they nothing display'd but a bird split in two. Then out rush'd the stripling in battle array, And both sides determined to fight and to maul: Death rattled his jawbones to see such a fray, And glory personified laugh'd at them all. Here he fail'd,--hence he fled, with a few for his sake, And leap'd into a cockle-shell floating hard by; It sail'd to an isle in the midst of the lake, Where they mock'd fallen greatness, and left him to die. Meanwhile the north fairies stood round in a ring, Supporting his rival on guns and on spears, Who, though not a soldier, was robed like a king; Yet some were exulting, and some were in tears. A lily triumphantly floated above, The crowd press'd, and wrangling was heard through the whole; Some soldiers look'd surly, some citizens strove To hoist the old nightcap on liberty's pole. But methought in my dream some bewail'd him that fell, And liked not his victors so gallant, so clever, Till a fairy stepp'd forward, and blew through a shell, "Bear misfortune with firmness, you'll triumph for ever." I woke at the sound, all in silence, alone, The moor-hens were floating like specks on a glass, The dun clouds were spreading, the vision was gone, And my dog scamper'd round 'midst the dew on the grass. I took up my staff, as a knight would his lance, And said, "Here 's my sceptre, my baton, my spear, And there's my prime minister far in advance, Who serves me with truth for his food by the year." So I slept without care till the dawning of day, Then trimm'd up my woodbines and whistled amain; My minister heard as he bounded away, And we led forth our sheep to their pastures again. Scorch'd by the shadeless sun on Indian plains, Mellow'd by age, by wants, and toils, and pains, Those toils still lengthen'd when he reach'd that shore Where Spain's bright mountains heard the cannons roar, A pension'd veteran, doom'd no more to roam, With glowing heart thus sung the joys of home. THE SOLDIER'S HOME. [Illustration.] THE SOLDIER'S HOME.