Voice after voice caught up the song,
      Until its tender passion
    Rose like an anthem, rich and strong,—­
      Their battle-eve confession.

    Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,
      But, as the song grew louder,
    Something upon the soldier’s cheek
      Washed off the stains of powder.

    Beyond the darkening ocean burned
      The bloody sunset’s embers,
    While the Crimean valleys learned
      How English love remembers.

    And once again a fire of hell
      Rained on the Russian quarters,
    With scream of shot, and burst of shell,
      And bellowing of the mortars!

    And Irish Nora’s eyes are dim
      For a singer, dumb and gory;
    And English Mary mourns for him
      Who sang of “Annie Laurie.”

    Sleep, soldiers! still in honoured rest
      Your truth and valour wearing: 
    The bravest are the tenderest,—­
      The loving are the daring.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

 THE BUGLE SONG.

“The Bugle Song” (by Alfred Tennyson, 1809-90), says Heydrick, “has for its central theme the undying power of human love.  The music is notable for sweetness and delicacy.”

    The splendour falls on castle walls
      And snowy summits old in story: 
    The long light shakes across the lakes
      And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

    O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
      And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
    O sweet and far from cliff and scar
      The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
    Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: 
    Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

    O love, they die in yon rich sky,
      They faint on hill or field or river: 
    Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
      And grow forever and forever. 
    Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
    And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

 THE “THREE BELLS” OF GLASGOW.

“The Three Bells of Glasgow,” by Whittier (1807-92), cannot be praised too highly for its ethical value.  Children always love to learn it after hearing it read correctly and by one who understands and appreciates it.  “Stand by” is the motto.  My pupils teach it to me once a year and learn it themselves, too.

    Beneath the low-hung night cloud
      That raked her splintering mast
    The good ship settled slowly,
      The cruel leak gained fast.

    Over the awful ocean
      Her signal guns pealed out. 
    Dear God! was that Thy answer
      From the horror round about?

    A voice came down the wild wind,
     “Ho! ship ahoy!” its cry: 
   “Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow
      Shall stand till daylight by!”