The knightly legend of thy shield betrays The moral of thy life; a forecast wise, And that large honour that deceit defies, Inspired thy fathers in the elder days, Who decked thy scutcheon with that sturdy phrase, TO BE RATHER THAN SEEM. As eve's red skies Surpass the morning's rosy prophecies, Thy life to that proud boast its answer pays. Scorning thy faith and purpose to defend The ever-mutable multitude at last Will hail the power they did not comprehend,-- Thy fame will broaden through the centuries; As, storm and billowy tumult overpast, The moon rules calmly o'er the conquered seas. WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME. There's a happy time coming, When the boys come home. There's a glorious day coming, When the boys come home. We will end the dreadful story Of this treason dark and gory In a sunburst of glory, When the boys come home. The day will seem brighter When the boys come home, For our hearts will be lighter When the boys come home. Wives and sweethearts will press them In their arms and caress them, And pray God to bless them, When the boys come home. The thinned ranks will be proudest When the boys come home, And their cheer will ring the loudest When the boys come home. The full ranks will be shattered, And the bright arms will be battered, And the battle-standards tattered, When the boys come home. Their bayonets may be rusty, When the boys come home, And their uniforms dusty, When the boys come home. But all shall see the traces Of battle's royal graces, In the brown and bearded faces, When the boys come home. Our love shall go to meet them, When the boys come home, To bless them and to greet them, When the boys come home; And the fame of their endeavour Time and change shall not dissever From the nation's heart for ever, When the boys come home. LESE-AMOUR. How well my heart remembers Beside these camp-fire embers The eyes that smiled so far away,-- The joy that was November's. Her voice to laughter moving, So merrily reproving,-- We wandered through the autumn woods, And neither thought of loving. The hills with light were glowing, The waves in joy were flowing,-- It was not to the clouded sun The day's delight was owing. Though through the brown leaves straying, Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; We knew not Love was with us there, No look nor tone betraying. How unbelief still misses The best of being's blisses! Our parting saw the first and last Of love's imagined kisses. Now 'mid these scenes the drearest I dream of her, the dearest,-- Whose eyes outshine the Southern stars, So far, and yet the nearest. And Love, so gaily taunted, Who died, no welcome granted, Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, By whom my life is haunted.