Ye daylight dreams! that cheer the soldier’s breast, In hostile climes, with spells benign and blest, Soothe his brave heart, and shed your glowing ray O’er the long march through Desolation’s way; Oh! still ye bear him from th’ ensanguined plain, Armour’s bright flash, and Victory’s choral strain, To that loved Home where pure affection glows, That shrine of bliss! asylum of repose! When all is hush’d--the rage of combat past, And no dread war-note swells the moaning blast; When the warm throb of many a heart is o’er, And many an eye is closed to wake no more; Lull’d by the night-wind, pillow’d on the ground, (The dewy deathbed of his comrades, round!) While o’er the slain the tears of midnight weep, Faint with fatigue, he sinks in slumbers deep! E’en then, soft visions, hovering round, portray The cherish’d forms that o’er his bosom sway; He sees fond transport light each beaming face, Meets the warm tear-drop and the long embrace! While the sweet welcome vibrates through his heart, “Hail, weary soldier!--never more to part!” And lo! at last, released from every toil, He comes!--the wanderer views his native soil! Then the bright raptures words can never speak Flash in his eye and mantle o’er his cheek! Then Love and Friendship, whose unceasing prayer Implored for him each guardian-spirit’s care; Who, for his fate, through sorrow’s lingering year, Had proved each thrilling pulse of hope and fear; In that blest moment, all the past forget-- Hours of suspense and vigils of regret! And oh! for him, the child of rude alarms, Rear’d by stern danger in the school of arms! How sweet to change the war-song’s pealing note For woodland-sounds in summer air that float! Through vales of peace, o’er mountain wilds to roam, And breathe his native gales, that whisper--‘Home!’ Hail, sweet endearments of domestic ties, Charms of existence! angel sympathies! Though Pleasure smile, a soft Circassian queen! And guide her votaries through a fairy scene, Where sylphid forms beguile their vernal hours With mirth and music in Arcadian bowers; Though gazing nations hail the fiery car That bears the Son of Conquest from afar, While Fame’s loud pæan bids his heart rejoice, And every life-pulse vibrates to her voice;-- Yet from your source _alone_, in mazes bright, Flows the full current of serene delight!