"Dark's the night, dun's the sky with smoke; Never more my guard they'll change; Three hours ago I could crack my joke, And now e'en the thought seems strange.
"Hark! the thunder bellows loud, And the night's come down apace, And the lava flame, through its sulphurous cloud, Is ruddy on my face.
"With a crash did yon temple fall; But ever, through all the din, Shrill rose a death-wail o'er all, The vestals' screams within.
"Men are running, away, away, With tight zones up yonder street; But a soldier of Rome must stay At his post, as seems him meet.
"I remember my levying morn-- I remember my sacred vow; And I'd hold it matter of scorn In death's teeth to break it now.
"Jove! lava is all around-- It nears me with scorching breath; It hisses along the ground To my feet, and the hiss means--death.
"I've fought as a soldier should 'Neath many an alien sky, And at home at my post I've stood Amidst cowards, and now, to die.
"Great Mars, give me heart of grace _Triarii_,[C] over the bowl Say, 'He died with a smile on his face, And glory in his soul'!"
[B] Overwhelmed, together with Pompeii, by a lava eruption, A. D. 79.
[C] The Roman _Triarii_ were old soldiers, of approved valor, who formed the third line in a legion--hence their name.
O, master, no more of your lessons! For a season we bid them good by, And turn to the manifold teachings Of ocean, and forest, and sky. We must plunge into billow and breaker; The fields we must ransack anew; And again must the sombre woods echo The glee of our merry-voiced crew.
From teacher's and preacher's dictation-- From all the dreaded lore of the books-- Escaped from the thraldom of study, We turn to the babble of brooks; We hark to the field-minstrels' music, The lowing of herds on the lea, The surge of the winds in the forest, The roar of the storm-angered sea.
To the tree-tops we'll climb with the squirrels; We will race with the brooks in the glens; The rabbits we'll chase to their burrows; The foxes we'll hunt to their dens; The woodchucks, askulk in their caverns, We'll visit again and again; And we'll peep into every bird's nest The copses and meadows contain.
For us are the blackberries ripening By many a moss-covered wall; There are bluehats enough in the thickets To furnish a treat for us all; In the swamps there are ground-nuts in plenty; The sea-sands their titbits afford; And, O, most delectable banquet, We will feast at the honey-bee's board!