 | Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 |  |
80
A PROLOGUE.
When threatened England's honour or repose,The British soldier well his duty knows—
To mount, to march, to fight, to fall, to die,
But never weakly yield or basely fly!
We boast not this,—all who deserve to bear
The name of soldier, so would do or dare
But claim with honourable pride we may
The courage to endure and to obey.
Need you the proof? 'tis not in battles won,
The shattered colours or the captured gun;
Not in the charge, though Balaclava's vale
Of hopeless valour, saw the sanguine trail;
Nor in the shock—though Inkerman's dark hill
Could tell of iron nerve and iron will!
'Tis in the frozen trench, the fevered camp,
The famished fort, the pestilential swamp,
Where war is stripped of all its pomp and pride,
The metal of the manly heart is tried.
81
The ship that foundered in the Indian main?
Upon whose deck, steady as on parade,
Their last command, the noble band obeyed;
And to the grave, of all but their renown,
Shoulder to shoulder, in their ranks went down.
If we as soldiers glory in such deed,
Must we not honour those in bitter need,
Who, with like courage, face their fearful doom,
The humble heroes of the mill and loom?
No frenzied outbreak of despairing men,
Scares the dull town, disturbs the quiet glen;
No wail of suffering woman renders less
Their brave endurance of prolonged distress;
Of all that to privation adds a smart,
Of hope deferred that maketh sick the heart;
No trumpet cheers them in their struggle hard,
No cross, no clasp—their valour will reward,
Their only prayer, throughout this trial dread,
Again to labour for their daily bread.
Patient and pale around the factory door,
Which opens to the moving stream no more,
In groups they stand, or wandering o'er the plain,
Cull herbs, which yield no medicine for their pain;
Brave fellow-warriors! honour ye we do,
And muster here to-night to help you too!
Receive it as the soldier's tribute paid
To gallant conduct, not as arms, but aid!
82
Friends for our cause, forgive our want of skill.
It is a cause, if e'er one was, demands
The best support of English hearts and hands!
| Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879 | |