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Perchance he may dream, but the vision shall tell
Of his lady love’s bower, and her latest farewell.
Illusion and love chase the battles alarms,
He shall dream that his Mistress lies lock’d in his arms;
He shall feel on his lips the sweet warmth of her kiss:
Ah! Warrior, wake not, such slumber is bliss.
Rest, Warrior, rest—Rest, Warrior, rest
MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet,
Oh! the last ray of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart!
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o’er the scene,
