Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1889-01-25
z uetifal.
Contributed to tie Sentinel.
THE SCOURGE IN INDIA.

During the terrible scourge of cholera Ii
India, when her Britanic Magestys troop
were contending with the rebellion of Til,
native subjects on the one hand and tn,
APPALLING horror of cholera on the other, anc
when men and officers were being deci
mated IN manner compared to which
the havoc of the battlefield is fir less pitt
able, and when death by powder and ball
would have been regarded as merciiu
relief, there were many scenes which pre-
sented u contradiction curious to contem
plate. Among these there was one which
exhibited in striking manner the reckless
hilarity with which the human heart may
be exalted when il should seem that every
nerve of exhilaration would be subdued
and relaxed, and the mind In contempla.
ton of thoughts suggested by the awful sur
rounding circumstances.
The following song was composed on this
occasion by an officer Of the British army
whose death came with the morning light
in the midst of party of comrades who
were making the "wclkin ring with their
Bacchanalain orgies In the British barracks
NosBTo NoTLIT, A NATIVE.
"HURRAH FOR THE NEXT THAT DIES
We meet meath the sounding rafter
And the walls around are bare,
AS they shout to our peals of laughter,
1t seems that the dead are there
But stand to your glasses, steady!
We drink to our comrades eyes,
Quaf u cup to the dead already,
And hurrah for the next that dies.
Not here are the goblets flowing,
Not here is the vintage sweet
IT'S cold as our hearts are growing,
And dark AS the doom we meet.
But stand to your glasses steady
And soon shall our pulses rise,
A cup to the dead already,
lIurrah for the next that dies
Not "a sigh Tor the lot that darklcs,
Not tear for the friends that sink,
Well full midst the wine cups sparkles,
AS mute as tho wine we drink,
So stand to your glasses steady
Ills this that the respite buys,
One cup, for the dead already,
Hurrah for the next that dies.
Time WAS when we irownod ut others,
W. bhoubub W. WCiO WiocI tiout
LA! ha let them think OF their mothers,
Who hope TO see them again.
So stand by your glasses steady
The thoughtless are here the wise,
A cup for the dead already,
IIurrah for the noxt that dies.
There's many hand that's shaking,
There's many check that's sunk,
But soon, though our hearts are breaking,
They'll burn with the wine we've druHk.
So stand to your glasses steady
'ris here the revival lies,
A cup to the dead already,
Hurrah for the next that dies.
There's Il mist on the glass congealing,
'ris the hurricanes fiery breath,
And thus does the warmth of feeling
Turn ice the grasp Of death.
Ho stand to your glasses steady,
For moment the yapor flies,
A cup to the dead already,
Hurrah for the next that dies.
Who breads to the dust returnng2
Who shrinks from the sable shoreY
Where the high and naughty yearnlng
OF the soul shall sing no more.
IIo stan6 to your glasses steady,
The world is world of lies,
A cup TO the dead already,
Hurrah for the next that dies.
Cut off from the land that loves us,
Betrayed by the land we find,
Where the brightest have gone before us,
And the dullest remain behind.
Stand, stand, to your glasses steady
"ris all we have left TO prize,
A cup to the dead already,
And hurrah for the next that dies"