PEACE AND GLORY.

By Thomas Moore

Where is now the smile, that lightened

Every hero's couch of rest?

Where is now the hope, that brightened

Honor's eye and Pity's breast?

Have we lost the wreath we braided

For our weary warrior men?

Is the faithless olive faded?

Must the bay be plucked again?

Passing hour of sunny weather,

Lovely, in your light awhile,

Peace and Glory, wed together,

Wandered through our blessed isle.

And the eyes of Peace would glisten,

Dewy as a morning sun,

When the timid maid would listen

To the deeds her chief had done.

Is their hour of dalliance over?

Must the maiden's trembling feet

Waft her from her warlike lover

To the desert's still retreat?

Fare you well! with sighs we banish

Nymph so fair and guests so bright;

Yet the smile, with which you vanish,

Leaves behind a soothing light;—

Soothing light, that long shall sparkle

O'er your warrior's sanguined way,

Through the field where horrors darkle,

Shedding hope's consoling ray.

Long the smile his heart will cherish,

To its absent idol true;

While around him myriads perish,

Glory still will sigh for you!