I left my low and humble home,
Far from my Father's fields to roam.
My peaceful cot no more had charms,
My only joy was War's alarms.
I panted for the field of fight,
I gaz' d upon the deathless light,
 Which o'er the Hero's gave is shed,
The glorious memory of the dead.
Ambition show' d distant star,
That shed its radiance bright and far,
And pointed to a path which led
O'er heaps of dying and of dead;
Onward I press' d with eager feet,
And War's dread thunder still would greet
My reckless ears. Where' er I trod,
I saw the green and verdant sod,
Turn red with blood of slaughter' d foes,
And Fury veil' d in smoke arose.

I gain' d the envied height; and there,
I sigh' d for that lone cottage, where
The early hours f life flew by,
On wings of youthful ecstasy.
Too late I found that Glory's ray,
Could never bring one happy day.