Sonnet 9. On the Melancholy of the Swiss Soldiers on Hearing a Certain Song
If , by the trumpet's voice and din of fight
Torn from his native Alps, the soldier hears
The simple song, which charm'd his early years,
His sullen soul repining loathes the light.
In double beauty to his longing sight
His humble cot and barren field appears;
His hollow cheeks are ever bath'd in tears,
And social joys no more his heart delight.
'Till, pining long with vain desire, he falls
To dark despondency a gloomy prey:
Dear is our country's image to the mind!
The shiv'ring native hears the chearless wind
In Lapland's snowy plains serene and gay,
And his bleak hut prefers to stately walls.
Torn from his native Alps, the soldier hears
The simple song, which charm'd his early years,
His sullen soul repining loathes the light.
In double beauty to his longing sight
His humble cot and barren field appears;
His hollow cheeks are ever bath'd in tears,
And social joys no more his heart delight.
'Till, pining long with vain desire, he falls
To dark despondency a gloomy prey:
Dear is our country's image to the mind!
The shiv'ring native hears the chearless wind
In Lapland's snowy plains serene and gay,
And his bleak hut prefers to stately walls.
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