XIX.

A memory on the mountains!--one to stand, When the hills echo’d with the deepening swell Of hostile trumpets, foremost for the land, And in some rock defile, or savage dell, Array her peasant children to repel Th’ invader, sending arrows for his chains! Ay, one to fold around him, as he fell, Her banner with a smile--for through his veins The joy of danger flow’d, as torrents to the plains.