IO THE YOUNG HUSSAR. 



Right through the enemy's lines he is riding, 

 Up the wide valley, and over the hill ; 



Faster and faster the chestnut is striding ; 

 Faster. The good horse is galloping still. 



Faster. The tents of the left wing are gleaming 



Hard by the verge of the silvery sea. 

 Faster. The chestnut's dark quarters are streaming. 



Faster and faster, and faithful and free. 



All is accomplished, the maps and despatches 

 Both are delivered with quickness and care. 



Pausing a moment the subaltern snatches 



Some food, which the rider and bonny steed share. 



Then in the twilight the chestnut is sailing 

 Back with his master to join the brigade. 



Hark ! there's a shot ! and a cry ! Is he ailing? 

 Look at the subaltern there in the shade. 



Down on the ground by the trees he is lying ; 



Fatal the bullet and fatal its course. 

 Yonder the outpost that spied him still flying 



On like a bird on his dark chestnut horse. 



Then, in a moment, sweet memories come o'er him : 

 Thoughts of his home by tne side of the Dee ; 



Forms of the dear ones he knew move before him, 

 Calling him back to them over the lea. 



