OH! forget not the hour, when through forest and vale, We returned with our chief to his dear native halls; Through the woody Sierra there sighed not a gale, And the moonbeam was bright on his battlement-walls; And nature lay sleeping in calmness and light, Round the home of the valiant, that rose on our sight. We entered that home -- all was loneliness round, The stillness, the darkness, the peace of the grave; Not a voice, not a step, bade its echoes resound, Ah! such was the welcome that waited the brave! For the spoilers had passed, like the poison-wind's breath, And the loved of his bosom lay silent in death. Oh! forget not that hour -- let its image be near, In the light of our mirth, in the dreams of our rest, Let its tale awake feelings too deep for a tear, And rouse into vengeance each arm and each breast, Till cloudless the dayspring of liberty shine O'er the plains of the olive, and hills of the vine. |