h.

MATRONS.

And we, and we, with breasts that smarted,
Knelt, lowly knelt, whilst firm ye stood,
From us and from affection parted,
In reek and smoke, in brothers' blood!

CHORUS OF MEN.

Tenderness comes from God;
Woman and man in its praise should sing;
But tenderness flies at honour's nod;
We offer all up to our land and King.

ONE VOICE.

What sang ye, warlike throngs?
Repeat, repeat this day,
One of the simple, nervous, songs
Ye murmur'd out, when, hot with wrongs,
Ye waited the coming fray.

UNIVERSAL CHORUS.

We love, we all love thee, beneficent Peace, &c.

SOLO.

Like the wave of the wild North main,
Foaming and frothing came on our foe;
Proud of his triumphs, proud of his train,
He thought to lay us low:
But, from Denmark's lines of oak,
A horrible, horrible volley outbroke;
Then tumbled his mast,
His courage fell fast;
And the wave, which resembled his furious mood,
Was now with his blood embrued.

CHORUS.

This is Denmark's holyday;
Dance, ye maidens!
Sing, ye men!
Tune, ye harpers!
Blush, ye heroes!
This is Denmark's holyday.

A VOICE.

But, hark! what sobbing and what mournful notes
Are mixing with our hymns of ardent joy!
Hush, hush, be still;
A band of white-rob'd maids approaches slow,
With lily chaplets round their yellow locks,
With heavy tear-drops in their sunken eye;
Broken and trembling sounds
The melancholy song,
Accompanied by harp-tones rising mild.

YOUTHFUL MAIDENS.

Love, with rosy fetter,
Held us firmly bound;
Pure unmix'd enjoyment
Grateful here we found.
Bosom, bosom meeting,
'Gainst our youths we press'd;
Bright the moon arose, then,
Glad to see us blest.

Denmark's honour beckon'd,
Loud the canon roar'd;
Perish'd in the battle
They whom we ador'd.
Sweet is, grave, thy slumber,
Free from care and noise;
Short are earthly sorrows,--
Endless heaven's joys.

SUDDEN CHORUS OF THE SLAIN WARRIORS IS HEARD FROM ON HIGH.

From the heavenly, clear, invisible, home
Our voices come:
No joy can resemble the joy which reigns
In our seraph veins.
Lov'd ones, lov'd ones, weep for us not,
Soon shall ye here partake of our lot;
High o'er the stars' extremest line
The sun of affection more bright shall shine:
Brothers, brothers, 't is sweet to die
For the land of our birth, and the maid of our eye.
Blest are ye who like us shall fall;
The righteous Jehovah r