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Those smiles unto the moodiest mind Their own pure joy impart;

Their sunshine leaves a glow behind That lightens o'er the heart.

THY DAYS ARE DONE.

I.

Thy Days Are Done, thy fame begun;

Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,

The slaughters of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,

The freedom he restored!

i

II.

Though thou art fall'n, while we are free Thou shalt not taste of death!

The generous blood that flowed from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:

Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!

III.

Thy name, our charging hosts along,

Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song

From virgin voices poured!
To weep would do thy glory wrong;

Thou shall not be deplored.

IT IS THE HOUR.

It is The Hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;

It is the hour when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whispered word;

And gentle winds and waters near

Make music to the lonely ear.

Each flower the dews have lightly wet,

And in the sky the stars are met;

And on the wave is deeper blue,

And on the leaf a browner hue;

And in the Heaven that clear obscure,

So softly dark, and darkly pure,

That follows the decline of day

As twilight melts beneath the moon away.

SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST
BATTLE.

I.

Warriors and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord,
Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path:
Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!

II.

Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,
Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe,
Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet!
Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet.

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