Why would anyone, when posting the lyrics to this song, think it necessary to "cull out some over-flowery language"? I'd rather read the original and judge that for myself.

From The Musical Banquet of Choice Songs (Glasgow: A. Macgoun, 1798), page 78:


THE WOUNDED HUSSAR

Alone to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube,
Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er.
"O whither," she cry'd, "hast thou wander'd, my true love,
Or here dost thou welter, and bleed on the shore?
What voice have I heard? 'Twas my Henry that sigh'd!"
All mournful she hasten'd, nor wander'd she far,
When bleeding, and low, on the heath she descry'd,
By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar!

From his bosom that heav'd, the last torrent was streaming,
And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar,
And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming,
That melted in love, and that kindled in war!
How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight!
How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war!
"Hast thou come, my fond Love, this last sorrowful night,
To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar?"

"Thou shalt live," she reply'd. "Heav'n's mercy, relieving
Each anguishing wound, shall forbid me to mourn!"
"Ah, no! the last pang in my bosom is heaving!
No light of the morn shall to Henry return!
Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true,
Ye babes of my love that await me afar—!"
His faultering tongue scarce could murmur adieu
When he sunk in her arms, the poor wounded Hussar!