Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A MELOLOGUE UPON NATIONAL MUSIC: FLOURISH OF TRUMPET, by THOMAS MOORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A MELOLOGUE UPON NATIONAL MUSIC: FLOURISH OF TRUMPET, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Hark! 'tis the sound that charms
Last Line: Now melting mournful lose themselves in tears!
Alternate Author Name(s): Little, Thomas
Subject(s): Music & Musicians; Trumpets


HARK! 'tis the sound that charms
The war-steed's wakening ears! --
Oh! many a mother folds her arms
Round her boy-soldier, when that call she hears,
And though her fond heart sink with fears,
Is proud to feel his young pulse bound
With valour's fervour at the sound!
See! from his native hills afar,
The rude Helvetian flies to war,
Careless for what, for whom he fights,
For slave or despot, wrongs or rights;
A conqueror oft -- a hero never --
Yet lavish of his life-blood still,
As if 'twere like his mountain rill,
And gush'd for ever!
O Music! here, even here,
Amid this thoughtless wild career,
Thy soul-felt charm asserts its wondrous power.
There is an air, which oft among the rocks
Of his own loved land, at evening hour,
Is heard when shepherds homeward pipe their flocks:
Oh! every note of it would thrill his mind
With tenderest thoughts -- would bring around his knees
The rosy children whom he left behind,
And fill each little angel eye
With speaking tears that ask him why
He wander'd from his hut for scenes like these?
Vain, vain is then the trumpet's brazen roar,
Sweet notes of home -- of love -- are all he hears,
And the stern eyes, that look'd for blood before,
Now melting mournful lose themselves in tears!





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