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THE FIELD OF HONOUR.
Poor men, sons of poor men, are Britain's soldiers,
But gentle in heart, and aye were approved rich
In glory and manhood, whereso in the world
Their warfare found. We lift to heaven our hearts,
Entering in battle, as becometh soldiers.
But gentle in heart, and aye were approved rich
In glory and manhood, whereso in the world
Their warfare found. We lift to heaven our hearts,
Entering in battle, as becometh soldiers.
Great is this enemy's crime: God will repay
Them, and our hands. Hold true your weapons, soldiers!
Them, and our hands. Hold true your weapons, soldiers!
Adin tremendous of the cannon's throat!
Shrieks rend the aery skies of the great shot!
Shells iron hurricane, that burst hideous,
Midst the army! Hiss aloft of infinite lead,
Where flies a deadly sleet. Now on every hand,
Wounds to red blood, men stricken without life,
Our comrades fall. And yet our foes we see not,
Are hidden in covert holes under the ground.
Shrieks rend the aery skies of the great shot!
Shells iron hurricane, that burst hideous,
Midst the army! Hiss aloft of infinite lead,
Where flies a deadly sleet. Now on every hand,
Wounds to red blood, men stricken without life,
Our comrades fall. And yet our foes we see not,
Are hidden in covert holes under the ground.
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And is the moment come, my God, of death?
Is this the place where I must ever sleep?
In Thee I trust, my God! in Thee I trust.
And shall I endure pain, will I not shrink,
Who 'scape alive, give them, Lord, my good part!
—This may they tell another day at home.
Is this the place where I must ever sleep?
In Thee I trust, my God! in Thee I trust.
And shall I endure pain, will I not shrink,
Who 'scape alive, give them, Lord, my good part!
—This may they tell another day at home.
Lo! when we stand before the enemy's face,
One battle rank, of one heart, and one breath,
Britons, one blood, that for our country fight,
Small difference is where all do generous deeds,
'Twixt who is gentle born and simple soldiers.
One battle rank, of one heart, and one breath,
Britons, one blood, that for our country fight,
Small difference is where all do generous deeds,
'Twixt who is gentle born and simple soldiers.
Die nobly can the poor man as the rich,
And who is high and who is lowly placed,
Contend now only in manhood; and who fall,
Graved in the battle-field, they comrades lie,
Where side by side for ever they await
The mercy of Heaven on their worthy deaths.
And who is high and who is lowly placed,
Contend now only in manhood; and who fall,
Graved in the battle-field, they comrades lie,
Where side by side for ever they await
The mercy of Heaven on their worthy deaths.
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How oft 'mongst Britons, one heroic seed,
Is seen, his officer snatch the poor man's son,
With peril of his life in field from death;
Nor seen more seldom valorous simple soldier
His captain save with jeopardy of his own.
Is seen, his officer snatch the poor man's son,
With peril of his life in field from death;
Nor seen more seldom valorous simple soldier
His captain save with jeopardy of his own.
In every age before us have men laid
Down willingly, for divers worthy cause,
Their faithful lives, and martyrs marched to death.
Down willingly, for divers worthy cause,
Their faithful lives, and martyrs marched to death.
Cast in so darksome and uneasy world
Our lot, we in whom desire of honour burns,
None better ending to a true man's life
Discern than fall for Country; as goeth down,
Unto his glorious rest, an harvest sun.
—For the life of this Nation be our deaths!
Our lot, we in whom desire of honour burns,
None better ending to a true man's life
Discern than fall for Country; as goeth down,
Unto his glorious rest, an harvest sun.
—For the life of this Nation be our deaths!
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Before us thousand thousand England's soldiers,
In many former fields, have fallen in fight.
By them this Island-Kingdom hath received
Renown 'bove all which in the world made wars;
Whose sons be we, and who beyond the seas,
Our brethren born of one Imperial blood.
In many former fields, have fallen in fight.
By them this Island-Kingdom hath received
Renown 'bove all which in the world made wars;
Whose sons be we, and who beyond the seas,
Our brethren born of one Imperial blood.
Stern, of brave soldiers, is the battle strife,
Till this blue bayonet steel of ours invade
The foemens' bodies and drip purple dyed.
Till this blue bayonet steel of ours invade
The foemens' bodies and drip purple dyed.
Give him who asks it quarter, for God's sake,
But spare no treason, murder merits death.
But spare no treason, murder merits death.
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