Of some loved lady fair Whom they predict shall one day Their heart and fortunes share. Now sable night droops kindly Into the arms of morn, Who comes to herald in the day And nature's face adorn? Heaven's soft grey eastern portals For her wide open fly, As the grand sun's golden chariot Wheels proudly through the sky. Night's gentle Queen and star gems Withdraw their gracious sway, As the sun in rose-hued splendour Kisses to life the day. Waters like polished silver Dotting the plain like shields, Babble their morning greeting From golden, grain-crowned fields. Then the glad light of morning Trips joyful o'er the plain, As the angel horror stricken Takes up her strain again, Alas! those hosts advancing In hot haste from afar, But yesternight so joyous, Now close in bloody war. And, as ferocious tigers, On tasting human blood, Revel in greedy madness Amid the crimson flood, So these fierce hostile warriors, Now stained with human gore, Grow unrestrained and reckless, And fiercer than before. The valley late so peaceful Steams with the rage of strife, Fast down the gloated furrows Flows the red stream of life. Maddened to rage and fury, Th' opposing hosts contend, And murder, ruin, carnage, death, Through the gorged plains extend. What can be, cried the angel, The meaning of such strife,