30 DECEMBER 1854, Page 10

TO J. H. C.

Young Standard-hearer! whom, with mournful pride, Wearing already on her heart thy name, England now welcomes to her lists of fame— Oh ! to sublimest manhood glorified, How my heart sees thee on the wild hill-side, Like War's own angel, in the furious game, Waving thole colours high o'er steel and flame, Cheering the brave to death, and dying as they died! At home, that day, what millions knelt in prayer ! The far-off thunder drown'd not the church-bell, And they who loved thee were all kneeling there, Nor knew the moment when their hero fell— Beauteous and blest, brave as the bravest were, And mourn'd more bitterly than words can tell.

L. S.