Poet's corner.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 1, Issue 48, 21 August 1858, Page 4

Poet's corner.

THE HIGHLANDERS BY THE WELL AT CAWNPORE. (From the Dublin University Magazine for Feb.J Footsore they were and weary, The day's grim work was o'er ; And the hot pursuit and the dying yell, And^the strife were heard no more, When they came to their night encampment, As the tropic evening fell, And stayed their steps for a little space . By that thrice-accursed well. Theirs were no fresh quick feelings j Few but had bravely stood On battle-fields where the soil was slaked Till each footprint filled with blood. Well did they know the horrors Of war's unpitying face ; Yet they sobbed as with one great anguish As they stood by that fatal place. Still was the eve around them ; But they knew that that sultry air Had thrilled to the cry of murderous rage And the wild shriek of despair. They saw in the chasm before them The bloody and self-sought grave Of many a heart that had cried in vain On heaven and earth to save. Mother and child were lying Locked in a last embrace, And death had printed the frenzied look On the maiden's ghastly face. And one of the slaughtered victims They raised with a reverent care, And shred from her fair and girlish head The tresses of tangled hair. They parted the locks between them, And, with low, quick breathing sware, That a life of the cruel foe should fall For every slender hair. "Leave to the coward, wailing, Let woman weep woman's fete, Our swords shall weep red tears of blood For the hearts made desolate." They will keep their vow unbroken ; But, oh ! for the bitter tears, The nights of horror, and days of pain That must fill our future years. Woe! for the glad homes stricken On our own green quiet shore, Woe ! for the loving and the loved Whom our eyes shall see no more.