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Then pledg'd we the wine cup, and fondly we swore,
From my home and my weeping friends never to part,
My little ones kiss'd me a hundred times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in the fulness of heart.
Stay, stay with us! rest! thou art weary and worn,
And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay;
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
THE MAID OF LODI.
SING the Maid of Lodi,
Who sweetly sung to me,
Whose brows were never cloudy,
Nor e'er distort with glee;
She values not the wealthy,
Unless they're great and good,
for she is strong and healthy,
And by labour earns her food.
And when her day's work's over,
Around a cheerful fire
she sings or rests contented,
What more can man desire!
