LATIN HYMN A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, We, with one warrior, have slain ! A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, a thousand, Sing a thousand over again! Soho! let us sing Long life to our king, Who knocked over a thousand so fine! Soho!- - let us roar, He has given us more Red gallons of gore Than all Syria can furnish of wine! SONG OF TRIUMPH Who is king but Epiphanes? Who is king but Epiphanes? Bravo! - bravo! There is none but Epiphanes, No there is none: So tear down the temples, And put out the sun! 5 10 5 8 [Song of Triumph] S.L.M. and 1840 repeat after this line the first four lines of the poem. As for Locke, he is all in my eye; May the d- -l right soon for his soul call. He never was known to lie In bed at a reveille roll-call. 20 5 John Locke was a notable name; Joe Locke is a greater: in short, IMPROMPTU TO KATE CAROL When from your gems of thought I turn THE DEPARTED Where the river ever floweth, Where the green grass ever groweth, My thick pulses hastily beating, My quick glances now retreating, Lonely, by that lovely river, Where the moon-lit blossoms quiver, Do I wander on forever, Musing on the past; When the weary moon descendeth, my soul strong memories sendeth, – She, earth's bright and loveliest flower, She, whose voice alone had power O'er my soul, is gone! Vain, oh! vain, are tears and wailing, Fierce deep grief is unavailing, Yet are they my heart assailing, – Proud heart, never won! 15 20 |