Buchanan County bulletin and guardian. (Independence, Iowa) 1866-1869, 1868-01-03
REvELRY IN THE EAST INDIES,

The following remarkable poem appeare'
originally, we believe, in the st. Helena Maya
rine, and was Afterwards copied into Earopeai
journals and some in this country. Itrelates &
the early services Of English officers in India
when the army was moved down by pesticnee
When Mr.. Macauay's account Of the effects o
smallpox in England is remembered, as il de
scribes the separation Of brothers, sisters an
lovers, it will be seen that this poem gives, with
wonderful effect, what is far nobler, howevel
painful, the very poetry Of military despair
but still the dying together Of trothers IN arms
We meet meath the sounding rafter,
And the walls around are bare,
As they shout to our peals Of laughter,
II seems that the dead are there.
But stand to your glasses steady.
We drink to our comrades eyes,
Quaff cup 70 the dead already;
And hurrah for the next one that dies.
Not here are the goblets glowing;
Not here is the vintage sweet;
lis cold, as our hearts are growing,
And dark az the doom we meet.
But stand to your glasses steady
And soon shall our pulses rise
A cup to the dead already;
Hurrah for the next that dies.
Not sigh for the lot that darklrs;
Not tear for the friends that ink;
Wen fall, midst the wine cups spark4es,
As mute as the wine drink. ss
20 stand to your glasses steady
'Tis This that the respite buys,
One cup to the dead already;
Hurrah. for the next one that dies,
Time was when we frowned at others;
We thought we we're wiser then;
Ia, Hai let them think Of their mothers,
Who hope to see them again
No! stand to your glasses steady.
The thoughtless are here, the wise;
A cup TO the dead already
Hurrah for the next that dies.
There's many hand :hat's shaking;
There's many a cheek that's sunk;
But soon, though our hearts are breaking,
They'll burn with the wine we've drunk.
So stand to your glasses steady
IT'S here the rerivallies;
cup to the dead already
Hurrah for the next that dies.
There's mist on the glass eongealing,
lis the hurricanes fiery breath
And thus does the warmth Of feeling
Turn ice in the grasp of death.
Ho stand to your glasses steady.
For moment the vapor aies;
cup to the dead already;
Hurrah for the next that dies.
Who breads to the dast returnirg7
Who shrinks from the sable shore?
Where the high and naughty yearning
Of the soul shall sting u . more.
No, stand TO your glasses steady,
The world is worid Of lies;
A cup to the dead already;
Uurrah for the next that dies.
Cut of from the land that bore US, 4
Betrayed by the land re find,
Where the brightest have gone before Us,
And the dullest remain behind
Stand. stand to your glasses, steady.
'Tis all we have left to prize;
A cup TO the dead already
And hurrah for the next that dies.
But how mush nobler in sentiment il the fol-
wing passage, by an earlier writer, even if
title heatheuish in its illusions.
his vast and solid earth, yon blazing sun,
hose skies through which it rolls, shan all haye
end
THAT, then, is man? The smallest part Of moth
ing.
Jay buries day, month month, and y.ar the
year;
)ur life is but chain Of many deaths;
hall then deaths self be feared? Our life
much rather;
Death joins us to the great majority;
lis to be borne to Platos and to Caesars,
Tis TO be great forever.
lis glory, 'tis ambition, then, to die.