Charles Fenno Hoffman

The Myrtle and Steel

ἐν μύρτου τὸ κλαδὶ ξίφος φορήσω.—Callistratus.

One bumper yet, gallants, at parting,
 One toast ere we arm for the fight;
Fill round, each to her he loves dearest—
 'Tis the last he may pledge her, to-night!
Think of those who of old at the banquet
 Did their weapons in garlands conceal,
The patriot heroes who hallow'd
 The entwining of Myrtle and Steel!
 Then hey for the Myrtle and Steel!
 Then ho for the Myrtle and Steel!
Let every true blade that e'er loved a fair maid
 Fill a round to the Myrtle and Steel.

'Tis in moments like this, when each bosom
 With its highest-toned feeling is warm,
Like the music that's said from the ocean
 To rise in the gathering storm,[1]
That her image around us should hover,
 Whose name, though our lips ne'er reveal,
We may breathe through the foam of a bumper,
 As we drink to the Myrtle and Steel.
 Then hey for the Myrtle and Steel!
 Then ho for the Myrtle and Steel!
Let every true blade that e'er loved a fair maid
 Fill a round to the Myrtle and Steel.

Now mount, for our bugle is ringing
 To marshal the host for the fray,
Where our flag to the firmament springing
 Flames over the battle array:
Yet, gallants—one moment—remember,
 When your sabres the death-blow would deal,
That Mercy wears her shape who's cherished
 By lads of the Myrtle and Steel.
 Then hey for the Myrtle and Steel!
 Then ho for the Myrtle and Steel!
Let every true blade that e'er loved a fair maid
 Fill a round to the Myrtle and Steel.