Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er,
  Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
Dream of battlefields no more,
  Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle’s enchanted hall,
  Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
  Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er,
Dream of battlefields no more;
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
  Armor’s clang, or war steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon here
  Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark’s shrill fife may come,
  At the daybreak from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,
  Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here’s no war steed’s neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done;
  While our slumb’rous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
  Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep! the deer is in his den;
  Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,
  How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done,
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail ye,
Here no bugle sounds reveille.

Notes.—­Pibroch (pro. pe’brok).  This is a wild, irregular species of music, peculiar to the Highlands of Scotland.  It is performed on a bagpipe, and adapted to excite or assuage passion, and particularly to rouse a martial spirit among troops going to battle.

Reveille (pro. re-val’ya) is an awakening call at daybreak.  In the army it is usually sounded on the drum.

XXXV.  HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS. (158)

William Shakespeare. 1564-1616, was born at Stratford-upon-Avon.  By many (perhaps most) critics, Shakespeare is regarded as the greatest poet the world has ever produced; one calls him, “The most illustrious of the sons of men.”  And yet it is a curious fact that less is really known of his life and personal characteristics than is known of almost any other famous name in history.  Over one hundred years ago, a writer said, “All that is known with any degree of certainty concerning Shakespeare is—­that he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon—­married and had children there—­went to London, where he commenced acting, and wrote poems and plays—­returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried.”  All the research of the last one hundred years has added but very little to this meager record.  He was married, very young, to Anne Hathaway, a woman eight years his senior; was joint proprietor of Blackfriar’s Theater in 1589, and seems to have accumulated property, and retired three or four years before his death.  He was buried in Stratford Church, where a monument has been erected to his memory; he also has a monument, in “Poet’s Corner” of Westminster Abbey.  His family soon became extinct.  From all we can learn, he seems to have been highly respected and esteemed by his cotemporaries.