English poem
BALLAD. (Hark the din of distant war)
by Anonymous
Hark the din of distant war, How noble is the clangor, Pale death ascend his ebon car, Clad in terrific anger:
A doubtful fate the soldier tries Who joins the gallant quarrel: Perhaps on the cold ground he lies, No wife no friend to close his eyes, Though nobly mourn'd, Perhaps, return'd, He's crown'd with victory's laurel.
How many who, disdaining fear, Rush on the desperate duty, Shall claim the tribute of the tear That dims the eye of beauty?
A doubtful fate, &c.
What nobler fate can fortune give? Renown shall tell our story If we should fall, but if we live, We live our country's glory.
'Tis true a doubtful fate, &c.
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