There, Ranger ! there ! you've won the field 

 The foe's expelled ; art thou at peace ? 



Beshrew the heart that would not yield 

 Indulgence e'en to love's caprice. 



Have I not told thee, faithful friend ! 



That good and evil, joy and pain, 

 We'll share until our journey's end ? 



That only death shall part us twain ? 



And never shall thy latter days 



Know want or suffering, wrong, distress, 

 That love, in all its countless ways, 



Can remedy, relieve, redress. 



And thou shalt live out all thy life — 

 No murderous hand shall lay thee low : 



Forestalling time's more tedious strife, 

 With merciful, preventing blow. 



Their mercy shall not end thy " pain," 

 As they are pleased brute age to call : 



No, thou shalt live, old friend ! to drain 

 Life's mingled potion, dregs and all. 



And many a sweet that time defies, 



Even with the latest drops shall blend, 



And many a comfort I'll devise 



To gild thy latter days, old friend ! 

 149 



