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Poems and Songs

ON THE

SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

AN ANTHOLOGY

FROM ENGLAND, AFRICA, AIVSTRALIA, UNITED STATES
BUT CHIEFLY CANADA.

COLLECTED BY

REV. J. DOUGLAS BORTHWICK. IL D

MONTREAL.
1901

1- y

4i)2n

printed bv

The Gazette Publishing Co.

montreal.

DEi. TCATION

■^ ' HiN Ex.lLI.E.\( V

Tin Ki.uiT Uox,mAHi,E L.,j,„ Mixt,,.

("•VERNOR-tJKNEHAI. or Canaim.

Mv Lord,

h give. ,.,e nuch pleasure in vour Lonkhin kin i.
."K.0 allow thin tnaly national an.i patrioti,- ..^ ' »<'nd'y -«.•„,.

over thi« I>on,i„ion (but «o .... n v ^^^ ," r f' ''""'" '■''^•""»'

H'>n,ewl,at, the original c-opy ). '' ^'"""'"^ *^"'»'' '''»*'^«1

fanmlian. will „ot forge, „,« em-r^v and heln uh!..
our l.t Contingent wa. sent to the So,^. tfl '"" ^"' *''*•"

wa«.li.played when the 2na and U. '' s "" ^'^T' " '""' ^"'•'"
same destination '^trathcona Ilo«<e," left for the

IVaying tliat the Ureal Disijow.r ^i v . '
I^rdHhipandyourestin^ble^;::;;;; "'"'* "^^ '""^ «P»- >"-

I remain,

MONTREAI.,

March, 1901.

Your obedient servant,

J. DOUGLAS BORTHVVICK, LL.D.

PREFACE.

IN th.8 colloctioi. will be found a great varietv „f P
and fn.m almct every part o( t^l T? . "'"* '*'"»'

world "'^''"'' "'**''"'« "»''<""• of ll'«

to the public the l-t«.* . . ' "* ^y "^ '^"'"K- -"^ring

MoNTHKAL,

March, IDOI.

J. DOUiiLAS BORTHWICK.

POEMS AND SONGS

ON THE

SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

THE UNION JACK.

If 8 only a small piece of bunting.

It's only an old coloured rag-
Yet thousands have died for Its 'honour

And shed their best blood for the fl^.

"' ^l^w'^ ''*"' '^'^ ^'•°" °' St- Andrew.

Which of old. ScoUand's heroes have led-
It carries the Cross of St. Patrick

For which Ireland's bravest have bled
Joined with these, on our own English ensign.

St George's red Cross on white field
Round Which from King Richard to Wolsley
Britons conquer, or die, but ne'er yieid ''
It flutters in triumph o'er ocean

As free as the wind and the wave;
And bondsman from shackles unloosed

Neath Its shadows no longer a slave.
It floats over Cyprus and Malta,

A J^'^L ^°*''*' ""« '"«**««• Hong Kong-
And Britons where'er their flagT^flyin^'

Claim the righte which to Britons^elong
We hoist It to show our devoUon

•Ti.Th °"' *^"^°' t° o*"- •country and laws;
Tls the outward and visible emblem

Of advancement and liberty's cause.
You may say It's a small bit of bunting

Yet freedom has made it maJesUc
And time has ennobled the Flag.

Anon.

POEMS AND SONGS

The following lines by J. Sheppard wore copied br the Author
when in London in 1888. Being in Wapping, on the Tunnel stain
»t that sUtion, and there waiting for the underground raUwajr—
amongst hundreds of other inscriptions— his eye caught the fol-
lowing words, very applicable to the present day of

" THE BRITISH EMPIRE."

What though the Powers, the world doth hold.

Were all against us met.
We have the might, they felt of old, and England's

England yet;
The flags that wared o'er many a rout.

From many a conquered wall,
For England shall again float out

Triumphant 'ere it fall;
Up English hearts, up English hands,
Up for your homesteads and your lands.

ENQLAND.

England is England!— though not " merrie * still,
Matchless In pow^; supreme her dauntless will;
Bending to none but Him, whose will ia hers;
Using her strength, alone when He avers.

England is England!— and her sons will fight.
To shield her banner and uphold her right;
Though for her lore, her loyal soldiers spill
Their best heart's blood— England is England sUll!

England is England! she will guard her own;
And make her power felt, sa it is known.
Courage brave sons!— she knows the British heart!—
Beyond its life, no more can love impart,

England Is England! she will make It known.
The cause of every Briton Is her own—
Her noble sons shall tread the path she trod— ?
England Is England! Yea— and God U Ood!

Amy KIngsIand Pennington, Halifax, N.S.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

DEATH SONG OF THE BOERS.

Lay my rifle here beside me. aet my Bible on my breaat
For a moment let the walling bugles cease; ' "

As the century is closing, I am going to my rest-
Lord, lettest Thou Thy servant go In peace

But loud through all the bugles rings a cadence in mine ear
And on the winds, my hopes of peace are strow d-

Of the rooi-baatje singing on the road.

Yes. the redcoats are returning; I can hear the steady tramp.

After twenty years of waiting, lulled to sleep.
Since rank and file at Potchefstrom we hemmed them in their
camp.

And cut them up at Bronkerspruit like sheep.
They shelled us at Ingogo, but we galloped Into range
And we shot the British gunnera where they showed-

Hark! The rooi-baatje singing on the road!

^"*FZ',n" y-'"'^^'- C»"««i«. from India's torrid plains
nK.^ v°°* Australian outposts, hither led:

The men in brown have Joined the men in red.

ThTl» ?' "^ '^'°^"' ** ^J"** '«" and lost.
An/r h^ * to pay us back the debt they owed;

.i.H*^ "''' ^°*'*" "'^' *"'» ^ ^ -Grange colo« tossed
Mid tHe rooi-baatje singing on the road.

"""'iTekr^U fi'^S.' H.T "'"'"■= *^* °"^' "'«' ^^^^J" must fall-

T>. Jl ° "*® ****'**°t murmur low-

The old. old order changes, and 'tis vain for us to rail

And veldt, and spruit, and kopje to the »trang»r w^^ll belong
No more to trek before him we shall loS

Ott "^ :t ' ""•*" "• '°' ^ bear uiX song
Of the rooi-baatje singing on the road.

From "The Telephone." Cape Town.

POEMS AND SONGS

ON BEING STYLED " PRO-BOER,"

Friend, call me what you will; no Jot care I-
I that shall stand for England till I die.
England! The England that rejoiced to see
Hellas unbound, Italy one and free-
The England that had tears for Poland's doom
And m Ler heart for all the world made room;
The England from whose side I have not swerved-
The ImmorUl England whom I too have served
Accounting her all living lands above.
In justice and In mercy and In love.

New York Sun.

THE RALLY.

They said, ' Sh* is old. this England-
Old and her children few,

And scattered far at the ends of earth
Each with his work to do.

Each thinking only of self and pelf.
And no one thinking of her—

Shall we call the pack— her hands are full-
Shall we bite— she cannot stir!"

Did she cry for help, our England?

What need had she to call—
The yell of snarling hounds went forth.

And was heard by her children all-
Sons and their sons and their children's sons,

Prom the white to the torrid zone;
Britannia's brood, blood of her blood

And ne of her very bone!

See, from the fields of old England,

The children about her knee,
And see from Scotland's heather hills.

The free sons of the free.
And see from Ireland's huts and halls

Bravest they of the brave—
The empire that their hands have built.

Her loyal sons shall save!

ON THE WITH AFRICAN WAR.

Canadians, straight as the pine trees.
That pierce the new world's sky—
They dream of an Isle they have not seen.

And proudly for It would die!
And see how under the Southern Cross

Australia's sons stend forth—
Yes, mark how the needle of loyalty

Points steadfast to the North!
Prom the East and the West, the Indies

And Isles of the farthest sea.
No son of the blood but hears aiid a^ks

' Has the Mother need of me''
And the yelpings cease, the cringing hounds

Show now neither fang nor tongue-
They said. ' This England is old and weak '
And IQ, she Is strong, she is young! '
We of the self-same birthright,

One blood, one spirit, one 'speech-
This to our brothers, who light to-day

For the rights of all and each—
From the Cape whose name is prophecy

Northward your feet are bent
And above your banners we read. ' Good Hope '
*or a darkened continent.

Daniel M. Henderson. Baltimore. U.S.A.

THE BRITON.
From Heremon we claim descent-

His bride King David's daughter.
Who from the Holy Land was sent
To Erin o'er the water.
. Since then the Norman and the Dane
The Teuton and the Frenchmen '

Co»Ir1 T' '"^' '^'"^ "-"^ the strain
Come sturdy British henchmen.

Ch'«ru8 —

^"""^iu^^"' ""■ ^^^ '"°°'' «°d birth
With pedigree to fit on

The isles and ccntinente of earth.

The freedom-loving Briton.

POEMS AND SONGS

The llbertlM our fathers won

We'll grant to eTery nation.
Till peace and Juatlce, like the aun,

Shall shine o'er all creation.
We seek no conquest to oppress.

Or trample on a foeman;
And blest ourselves, we seek to bless

With enmity to no man.
Chorus —

Thus Celt and Teuton, Norman. Danfe

AnA^T ^"^^ """ "'°"*' '^°°» ocean.
And fan upon the earth like rain

To set the crops In motion.
No Cadmus crop of armed bands

To meet in strife infernal
But loving hearts and willing hands

Chorus- "'^ "*''' ^'' '^* *'«"•»'•

Carroll Ryan, Montreal.

TREKKING.
(Song of the Boer Woman.)

But the doer of the veldt is closed-is closed » wkT

to more? v.woou is closed!— Where can we trek

ON THK SOCTH AKKJfAX WAR.

T,,«...l ,„«,„., ^tt„., ..»„.„.»»,, ,„„„„„.J^

are strong— ciosed— the doors of our heart

'""'l^To^ZZ' '"' ^ '^ ''^''-•' '^-'-'^^ - to the

For the land Is ours!!^" ,!!!^ ^""^ ^°"'' '^'""^ '''"h and will-

John Jerome Rooney. m New York Sun.

MACDONALDS SWORD

»«!irir^^"r.'-r^ ""' — ' •"- .. <>„-».

survived Majuba Hill wh«ra k?^ ' "^^ °°® °' t*'* offlcers who
^ wore had been pi^^f^* i\7",**';f P'-'-oner. The swor*
When he won his «CS^ iLaZrf I T °' '''« «>="«"y
to that effect. The BoeTl^e" noU^Tt . """' "^^ *°«'^^«°«
arms and brought It back tTMrcil^TtlmTZ" '"'" «»"«''''«'*d
man who had won such a s^r^K^^ ..'^ * *'*" *** ^««'' "• « »

Gen. Macdonald sUU te^te tJIstoif ^ °*** '^ '^'^'*^«* '^-^ «.
gentlemen. * "^""^ ""> «ys that those men were

T.. »jn,^.„ ,„ ^ » <„, ,.^ ^„, ^^^ ,__ ^^ __^ ^^

the dust! "wuniain. Her flag we'd trailed in

Ah, many a comrade lyln* ntni «» *v .
We envied with bitter L^,^^! would oT' "i"*'"''
S-3eter were death than capture Xt^wr/f' ?"" '''^•
T.e Shame that our pride had yielded tt,r, eCse^amr ^'

I'OKAIS AX1> mSiiS

The camp fire shone on our captors, those men of the relctt and
farms;

Sombre, rugged, uncultured, unskilled (save In use of arms).
Straight from the plough and the sowing they had shouldered' thatr
roers for the flght.

And we bad gone down before them— gone down in our well-drilled

might!
Oh. well might they look with triumph upon our grim despair
As slowly within the red light we filed befora them there.

And our captain gave his sword up-(lts blade to-night was dim)
The sword his comrades gave to show their pride in him.
He gave it up in silence, but we who know his heart
Could guess the wild regretting, the aching pain and smart;
To yield his sword Is an anguish that cuts a man full sore,'
And his wore a sting still keener, for he gave it up to a Boer.

And they took it, too. In silence, that sternly quiet band.
And read of honour thftt won It aa they passed It from hand to
hand.

And then they turned to us, sUnding still In the dust and the glow,
With our thoughts up there on the mountain and black In our
hearts the woe,

They spoke In our English language, their words were few and
plain.

"We take not the sword of a brave man '—and they handed it
back again.

That night when the stars were glinting above the camp Are flare,
As we lay around In the shadows, and the Boers with their guns

watched there.
Our captain spoke to us shortly: " Men, we have lost the day;
Yet I hold we are not dishonoured, whatever the world may say;
To yield to a foe Ignoble Is a true cause for shame.
To souls small and ungenerous, no matter their race or name;
Our flag has gone down on Majuba, our pride Is stricken sore;
But we've learnt that our foe is worthy, although that foe be a
Boer."

Many a sun o'er Majuba since then has risen and set;
Many a year has fleeted since Boer and soldier met.
The winds of this life have scattered them, scattered them wide and
far;

The men who came down from the mountain, carried a heart-deep
•car.

._ JfL^*^ ^"^'T" AFRICAN WAR.

word. ^ °' "'^ ^'^'•' >"»• contemptuou.

For ,on. as our me U with u.. we",, remc:nber Macaoaa.ds sword-
H. M. Bromley. Bloemfontein. South African News

AMERICAN POEMS 70 ENGLAND.

MOTHER ENGLAND.

the views':;: Z7:izz tr f r "^ ■ ^""-•- ^^ ^p--

most widely e,rcu?a,edTat IT^, San% ^''V ^""" ' '" ^»'«
St. Ix>uls. and has great Influere xLn ""^"'"^^^ ^'"l weat of
speaking people all over the worW 11!^^*'" '"^ ^°«f'"''»-
a» It expresses emanated fro Jan 11.^'' * "' ""'*^ Bentlments
California. " "^ Amerlcaa writer in Southern

Vour Scolt. your BurL^r Jh.J^ " "* "»•"»-«'••■

'- «. ..o.„y .o,„ o, .,, ji.i'r.:»",rr

P0EM8 AND 80N08

Mother England!— ll«tlier England!— Lo— your aona from tea to

Bear the e^ual acalea of JusUce and the lamp of Liberty;
Only tiea of loye can bind them— strong aa ateel but soft aa ailk—
Tor they sucked the love of freedom with their English mother-
milk.

Mother England!— Mother England!— If ail Europe rise and roar.
We will meet them— we will beat them, on the sea and on the shore;
Then our sUlwart Anglo-Saxons, side by side, on land and sea.
Will march on and sail together to one world-wide destiny-
Bearing still the scales of Justice and the lamp of Liberty.

Mother England!— Mother England!— here la heart and hand with

thee!
For Albion's blood is in our veins— and Saxons too. are we ;
One history, one destiny, one God, one tongue, one aim-
To bear the torch of Freedom round the shackled world aflame.

« H. L. O., Lob Angeles, U.S.A.

WAITING.

Under an alien sky I keep my vigil.

While with winged footstep glides the listening night.
And far *rom this white coast in moonlight sleeping,

A world afar the Empire's soldiers flght.

I, a girl exile, hopeless waif of Empire,
I could not cheer one soldier on his way ;

I had no gold to give, I could not even

Hang out my own dear flag to greet the day.

Wher^ quiet fields swam to my eyelids smarting.
No echo of the shouting, reached my ear ;

I could not see them In their pride, departing.
Nor the glad tumult clustering at the pier.

Yet, oh my Empire, under your flag's floating.
My deeper love, remembers you to-night ;

And faith climbs closer to the veiled to-morrow-
To-morrow shall not victory " tell the flght ? "

Elizabeth Carter, N. Jersey, U.S.A.

_?^E^THAFR^A,V WAR

AMERICA TO ENGLAND.

O Motherland, we hope wJth thee
That «x,„ triumphant thou wm tie-
w«« , .. ^*'" Conqueror.

B»l for th« rnirt,, ;,„,„

Vet did they die m peace.

B. eveA^&^-h 1--
ur Liberty.

Wchtonr We hope With thee •

On Afrlc-aalopes our hearts wi„5e.
Until the end.

The blood of ancient Britain ni.
We hear the war cry and th k "" °'"" ^®*'"-
And pray with thee.

^or Britain's ,0';";; T '''"'' °"°'
That yet Shall nve^SJ.""*™^*'

WUhV;rot^l-««'«''>e.trewn

Denman S. Wa«ti.» 1 .

POEMH AND 8fJN08

1 i

i I I

UNDISHBARTBNBD.

StMdx, England, on the left flank-
On tl|« right flank form again:

Maaa your columna on the centre;
SUnd to coloura, Bngllahmen !

Bngland'a Emplce baa not fallen.

Though a thouaand men are alaln ;•
Tet a thouaand timea a thouaand

" Rule BriUnnia " ahall malnuin.

Ajra, a the -««nd tlmea a thouaand
Uvea I 'e welcomed aacriflce.

Thua to W.4. and bold and cherlah
Bngland'a Empire— paid the price.

Checked and baffled, yet undaunted,
See the conquering flag unfurled ;

Herald-enalgn of the tardy *

" Federation of the World."

Steady, England, undlaheartened,

SUll the "Thin Red Line" remalna

Rally • Rally to the reM:ue !

Let the end wipe out the itaina.

Heed not hungry, waiting vulturea ;

Let them hover, yet forbear.
For the Lion atiU Is monarch—

And our Eagle watches there.

Mark, Columbia is neutral.

Friendlier than the watchful three ;
Walt : Britannia and Columbia
With a hand-clasp span the sea.

By the paths we trod together,
By the blood that mingled then ;

By the charter-rights we wrested
By the mother-tongue of men ;

OHTOTaOOTH AFRICAN WAH.

By the rtcbt that wu tatcHt
By the pluck that won our own

By th« tin that bind all k(ndr«|— '
By " then fruit. " both may be known.

By the darkneaa diaalpatcd.

By the battle* abe haa fouf ht.
By the realma emancipated.

By the provre.. .he haa wrought

By the bulwarka baaed on manhood,

Br the torch of freedom borne
By th^ teata that make an Empire

Bntlanda glor> la unahorn.

By the light that ahlnea In darkneaa
Len. to pierce the future'a veil,

■ iL. {'."I""*" """'• prophetic,
Bn«» id a Empire ahall prevail.

Steady, England, on the left flank •

v^:^* ''*»'** ''"* '«"«• awin •

Tuh '«J^:T "" ""•'' "•'^"tr^
irlah, Scotch and Engllahmen !

J- H. J. In " The Worceater Spy.'

ODE TO BRITANNIA.

^ M.« ..d to C0B,C1..„ ^, „ .„,„ ^^ ^^^

Bfl, « J8 the Lord-8 command.

WEMS AND SONGS

In ezcelslB gloria, Hlbernla, Victoria !

Evermore the tyrants vile the deadly charge will fear;
Of Erin's sons whose trusty steel does drive the foes before
them.

For freedom's cattse, and Britain's name, and home, and all
things dear.

Iho' even In these present days of liberty and right.
And peace, enjoyed In English speaking lands:

The cry still rings In other lands, aloud, for light, -
To stand against oppression's base commands.

In excelsls gloria. Canada. Australia !

And all Britannia's children, in every land or clime,
Thy fealty and thy daring so gallantly defending.

The sacred cause of freedom, will be lauded for all time.

J. C. Collins, Chicago.

POEMS ON THE WAR.

"SPARTAN MOTHERS."

" One more embrace, then, o'er the main
^ And nobly play the soldier's part."
Thus speaks, amid the martial strain.
The Sparton mother's aching heart
She bides her woe.
She bids him go.
And tread the path his fathers trod.
"Who fights for England, fights for God."

Helpless to help, she waits, she weeps.

And listens for the far-off fray.
He scours the gorge ; he scales the steeps.
Scatters the foe — Away ! Away !
Feigned is their flight.
Smite ! again smite.
How fleet their steeds ! How nimbly shod !
She kneels, she prays: " Protect him, God ! "

^^!>fj«!-

■>?" 'l^.f tJ

-^fK3^:Jm¥^. m^

'^wi^mm

Oy THE SOUTH AFRICAX WAR.

The Bisters sigh, the malden'B tear

The wlfe-8. the widow's stifled wall
These nerve the hand, these brace the spear •
And speed them over veldt and vale.
What is to him.
Or life or limb.
Who rends the chain, and breaks theVod,
Who falls for freedom, falls for God.

And should It be his happy fate

»>, "*,',! !° 'Jf" '° *"*"»« and rest.
She Will be siding at the gate

To fold him to her trembling breast.
Or should he fall.
By ridge or wall—

Who H? T'^ """^ *"■**" «°"^hern sod.
Who dies for country, sleeps with God.

Alfred Austin. Poet Laureate of Great Britain.

•Jl

" THE EMBLEMS IN 1900."

Said the Rose :

With u V """u ""■*"'*' "^y P*^'" «*eet
With a deeper bloom than for years

We't wlth^H ""'T ^'^ *"'•"' ""«* ^««t.
Wet with dew from the Empire's tears."

Said the Thistle :

M„«t S *y '"■'"'*' ""« bayonets hright
Mu stand out with new force and pride
Whilst a purple pall I spread over ali
Who as heroes fall side by side."

Said the Shamrock •

Fm m^&'mrA^^^:w.

I is

POEMS AND SONGS

The deepened hue in the ruby's sheen

The fuller tone In the amethyst's gem.

The richer sparkle In emerald green,

Will give to the crown on our monarch's brow

An added lustre, a greater charm ;

Whilst the Empire's tears tall thick and warm

And burnish the ruby, the purple, the green.

In the circlet of gold that is worn by our Queen.

E. B. M.

t f

J' 1"

THE VOICES.

•

Do you know the meaning of it. why the anxious nations pause.

Pause and listen tc che voices muttering near ?
Why the aching eyes are watching for the shifting of the flaws,

As the hovering clouds upon them drift and veer ?
Yea. we know the meaning of it, but the issue no man knoweth.

For the darkness hides our faces from the day.
And the fever In our bosoms like a smouldering fire gloweth

While the mothers of the nations wait and pray ;
Spare our sons, O Lord, and grant us peace !

Thus the mothers of the nations silent pray.

Can we know the reason for it, why the nations anxious wait '

Why they choose to drink the wormwood and the gall
Why the vengeful souls are burning, swelling, cankered with their
hate.

Why we cannot read the writing on the wall »
Yea, we know the reason for it, 'tis the pent-up brute within us

Grinds our faces in the darkness and the dust ;
And we waver in the blackness as the brutish voices win us

Whispering stripe for stripe and thrust for thrust
And the echo never dies, but answers ever—

Eye for eye and tooth for tooth and thrust for thrust

Oh, the dread, the pity of it ; Oh, the victims of the strife-
Oh. the mighty tools of Death that mar the main ' '

Though the voices whisper louder: Thrust for thrust and life for life
Let us pause and count the richness of our gain

Though our souls grow dull and weary as the nations war together
Let us pause and strive to pierce the dusky veil ;

ONTHE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Tho«.bth. .car. „e onward fleet.n, and we cannot ^p the fther.
Let n. «k whr .Ulned and bloody ,. their trail.

Like the prophet, of a deaf and sleeping Baal.

Frank Call. Frellghaburg, Que.

BOUND YET FREE.

Bealde a running mountain stream

A poplar tall and fair,
Held rule supreme, and none around

Might her high offlce share ;
For e'en the roaring waters owned
That she was empress there ;—
And right across (he rolling stream

Her graceful shadow threw
To where upon the other bank

An offshoot poplar grew.
Whose roots were Intertwined with hers.
That nought could part the Uo.

Now. like the poplar, Britain stands.

And she is ocean's queen,
How proudly does she bear the name

And rightly, too, I woen,
While proud are we and close we cling

Though waters roll between ;
So we who grow from out her r^ts

Will cling to her through all —
Should need arise. Britannia knows

We'd follow at.her call

Resolved to stand as Britain stands!
To fall, could Britain fall.

Ethelwyn.

POEMS AND SONGS

WHO'S THAT CALLING ?

Who's that calling ?
It cones from far away,
The voice of a brother o'er the sea,
It says : " Am I a stranger,
That you leave me In danger.
Oh, my brothers, will you stretch a hand to me ?
Send us the flag !
The red cross flag !
Send us the banner that we love !
We long for it, we sigh for It,
To live for it, to die for It—

Ood save the Red Cross flag ! "

Who's that calling ?
It comeS) from far away.
The voice of a brother in the West,
" We are loyal, we are true.
We are flesh and blood of you.
We are coming with our bravest and our best
Bearing the flag.
The red cross flag.
Bearing the banner that we love.
And is It stormy weather !
Then we sink or swim together.
God save the Red Cross flag ! "

J*'

Who's that calling ?
It comes from far away,
A voice from the far Pacific main,
" And shall we be behind
When the banner's In the wtnd.
And the old game is playing once again ?
We're for the flag.
The red cross flag.
We're for the flag that is our own.

Do J ou ask a heart to care for it ?
A hand to do and dare for it ?
God save the Red Crosb flag ! "

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Who's that calling ? '
The old sea-mother calls,
In her pride at the children that she bore t

" Oh, ijoble hearts and true, '

There is work for us to do.
And we'll do it as we've don« it oft before.
Under the flag.
The red cross flag.
Under the flag our fathers bore ;
They died in days gone by for it.
As we will gladly die for it,

Ood save the Red Cross flag ! "

A. Oonan Doyle, " London Daily News."

THE OLD COLORS.

baWe With*" ni oT '° J'!'"""^' ''* ^'■'"•'*' ^••"y »>" "'^••ehed into
battle with no colors at its head. They have been Mt »t h«J«

•ometlme, hung in churches and cathedrals rre ,o,LLT««
verse, from "The London Outlook " are in reference tHhTs ffct _

That rent is Talavera. that patch is Inkerman.

Bu???fnf ""^J^ * *"""''■*'' ""'"*« *•»« »'«"'« "-"und them ran-

S«„r.„ "V^'^ '"*"*"'■• ^''^y *•» °°t «<> to-day :

Hang them above as a link of love where the women come to pray.

!°t^k T""'"^ °' '"* '""*""■ *° *»•« ^*J« °' Al Rashed

I t«,k Jhem away from a boy who lay in a ring of th; dying-

?hf ilnli* "t 'Ty " """"^ = ^^^''-b^t his hand held this
\^:Z\tr'' " ^'^ '""'' °' ''' «"--> <God'-Vght\e

POEMS AND SONGS

I I

INFLEXIBLE AS FATE.

When, for a passing hour. Rome's manly sway
Felt the sharp shock of Cannae's adverse day.
Forum and field and Senate house were rent' •
With cries of— Not missiving nor lament ;
Only of men contending, men who said
Purchase the spot on which the victor stood.
Legion on legion sprang up from the ground.
Gleamed through the land, then over ocean wound.
Till Sclpio's eagles swarmed on Afric's shore
And Carthage perished, to Insult no more.

Not less resolved than Rome, now England stands
Facing foul fortune with unfaltering hands •
Through her vast realm is neither fear nor 'feud
But calm In strength and steeled in fortitude
She fills the gaps of death with eager life
That will not la^ nor haggle In the strife
Till, having backward rolled the lawless Ude
Of trusted treason, tyranny and pride,
Her flag hath brought. Inflexible w fate.
Charter of Freedom to a fettered state. '

Alfred Austin.

FOR HONOR.

Britannia, armed, goes forth to war
To fling aside a halVclosed door.
She bears the blazoned British shield.
And none but her that spear can wield.
Come ! Who will follow, who will ride.
For England's honor, at her side ?

Sons of Britannia ! You s^iall fight
Not solely for your country's right ;
Wise-ruling Peace's life is made
The guerdon of our rescuing blade.
Not for your heritage alone—
For progress, fainting on her throne.

■■.it ■:>■?

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN War.

The corn-seed dies to yield the ear.
By Death cornea Ufe in higher sphere,
F««r not to die » The beat we give
Shall rear the best— die we, or live—
Aa fall the heroea of our race
That we might live to fill tLelr place.

God la not mocked ! His Law shall run.
His cl/ariot wheels are rolling on.
Who dares to atay them ? Let us stand
To clear the path— a steadfast band.
As we have dealt, In ages past.
Oh, Lord ! deal Thou with us, at last :

" London Chronicle."

THE SITUATION.

See Britannia'a wandering brocJ
Call'd from various realms afar.

Staunch of heart, and Mern of mood,
Mustering In the pomp of war .'

What stirs the Sea-Queen's blood to-day ?

Why marshals she her proud array ?

Not for desert pasUme these.

With their flx'd and flaming eyes •
Not in sport they crosa'd the seas.

Dar'd the glare of Afrlc's skies •
Why, then, do the bold roamers come
To camp and trench, from hearth and hone ?

Heard ye not that ruthless men.

While the sated Lion slept.
Tow'rd her lone, unguarded den.
Over veldt and kopje crept.
Intent, while yet supine she lay!
To bear a weanling cub away ?

But behold the spoiler's hand

Scarce had touch'd the straggling limb.
When amid that robber band

Rose the Lion stark and grim •
And with a roar of rage and pride'
Summon'd her ofTspring to her side

POEMS AND SONGS

These are they : regard them well ;

Blanch'd of snowe, and bronz'd with sun :
Needless here the tale to tell

Of the deeds that race hath done.
Now In good sooth the Boer will feel
A foeman worthy of his steel.

What must, then, the Issue be ? *

Will the raider backward crawl ?
Nay ; too late to turn and flee—

One must sUnd. and one must fall
And 'gainst the might of fang and claw
What can avail yon spears of straw ?

Robert Reld, Montreal.

lif^

I i

CANADIAN SONS OP OUR GREAT EMPIRE.

^•t:Zrl "' *'' ''■^'"' Leat-Prayr excuse, if you

"""'liZ."""" "'"'' ""*" '•"•°' ^'"'•'•»'- SO- o' Our Great

Chorus.

For. could I own the Earth. I'd count it nothing worth
Tin on ev'ry hand, I saw the grand '

Old British Flag on high.

They have titled Our LnT" The Ladv ,t" ""' •T'"""*^''' '° '"°»«- ■
tousd our ire. ^ °' ^'"''^^' *'»''=»' ^^^^ almost

As a biessm.. Snow comes to Canadian Sons of Our Great Empire.
' Chorus.

ON THK SOUTH AFBICAN WAR.

211

O! Our beautiful Land. U. ,r«t and If. grand. tU the be.t oa
isartn;

•Ti. a haven of health, and ita mineral wealth doth attest Ita worth
Just gaze on our llmitleaa grain-bearing fields, which are all that

our farmera desire,
Golden grains golden funds for Canadian Sons of Our Great Empire.

Chorus.
Song> of triumph well ralae, to honour and praise, (till life expires.,
f hey who ought, and bled, where duty led. Our Conqrlng Sire
Like them too well tight, and Britannia's foe smite, with the olrt^

time vigour and fire.
Till he dies, yields, or runs from Canadian Sons of Our Great Empire.

Chorus.

For-A« true British subjecU we were born.
So true British subjects will we die.
For could we own the Earth.
We'd count it nothing worth,
Till, on ev'ry hand, we saw the grand
Old British Flag on high.
Drum-Major W. R. Boyd. 5th Royal Scots of Canada, Montreal.

THE VOLUNTEER.
The man's volte broke as he gently spoke

To the mother-eyes serene;
Yours to command, and yours to love.

In past days I have been.
And yours with love I always am,

Though seas may roll between;
Not yours, this year, to command, my 5ear.

For I've sworn to serve the Queen.

Yet ere he went where the Queen has sent.

Her servants brave and free.
He spoke a word for a maid to hear.

And he now belongs to three;
Three who shall guide where'er he roves.

On the veldt or on the sea.
Who pray to-night for our soldier bright.

His mother, the Queen, and me.

Clytie.

I'OiiMS AND SONUS

f! r

! i. !

DBFUNCB TO TUK POEI
To the Canadian Tranavaal Contingent.
Embark, sail hence. Canadian lada. like Britlahem of yore-
8p«ed on. a Btrong true-hearted band, to tace the unjust ilOer. '
When danger lurka galnat Motherland who aald that you were

"^"^ mt^k''; ''''*° "'"*" ""^ "^ •''*''•• '*"'' "^ """^ •*«« *«"
Now lefB unite In strength and might, and thu. the ..Htionn .how
That every voice In thta land blda defiance to the foe! '

In daya of yore bold Britons bled for freedom dearly bought;

"uujhr' ^''* °° ^""'^ ■""* *''^* '"*''■ "^'*' "•* **»"' ^''^y
That when our day of duty came, wed watch with jealous care
The foes that stand menacing Britain's Empire, now so fair!

That every voice In ihU land bids deflance to the foe!

Au<>n.

f I

FRIENDLY VOICE FROM NOR WAV.

The following verses, translated from a longer rhyme in Nor-
wegian, are addressed to Britannia's 'ea^le.' by Krlstofer Randera"

You now meet with disaster on field after field.

Your warriors have fallen and died,
And the ocean you rule is of no help to you.

Where your soldiers now fight side by side;
And they all. watch their chance, they who wish for your fall

Just because your great power them defies
And from Seine, Rhine, and Neva, and Spree can be heard

A chorus of threatening cries. '

But you stand there as firm as a rock 'gainst the storm

All lashed by the spray and the foam;
And there fell not one leader, nor sounded one voice

Breathing doubt or despair in your home.
No-<:almly you answered: We have but commenced.

And by Patience we'll win our reward.
Though a year shall pass by. and the century's dawn

Be hailed by the clash of the sword!

ON THIS SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

I
31

THIS CANADA OF OURa.

In Canada, the fi-Mdom.

Which Britona lore ao well,
Fllla every heart with gladneaa

Makea evety boaom awell.
So, ralM aloft your Tolcei!

Invoke the heavenly powera
To uieaa our fair Dominion,—

Thla Canada of oura!
Chorua—

Then raiae aloft your volcea!

Invoke the heavenly powera
To bleaa our fair Dominion,—

Thla Canada of ours!

In Canada, the toller

Ha« Bcope for honeut toll.
Her watera, plalna and foreata,

Her mlnee below the aoll.
Send forth their bounteoue harreata-

While aunihlne, froau and ahowera
cnaae oer our vaat Dominion,—
Thla (>nada of oura.
Chorua—

In Canada, we firmly

Stand up— aa Britona ahould,-
Tne foremoat In the cauae of right

Of truthfulnesa and good.
And when our gracious Sovereign

Needs to Increase her powera
She confldenUy. then, can trust

Thle Canada of oura.
Chorus —

Jamea Cranteahaw, B.C.L., Montreal.

CANADA'S GIFT.
The Ohrlstmaa bells ring out again

tSI t, ^. ^*'^ '^oxxnA^tt from afar
The tumult of a mighty war.

PUEMH AND H0N(J8

O mother England o'er the Ma !

Thy dauchteri ChrJiimaa gjft to thee

1« xtrong men armed for the Kmpire lervlng

To ibow my loyalty unawervlng.

My land la rich In aUlwart sona.

I've picked for thee my cholceat onea •

Thoee without blemish In my eyea.

Of them I make the aaf riflce.

I give the beat I have to give,

I aend them forth— to die or live—

Forth. Where the flrea of war are burning

I •P«Bk no word of the lada returning.

Dlaheartenlng rumora still are rife.
Come sickening talea of loaa of life :
Long, long grows BrlUlns roll of fanie

With many a loved and cherished name

Of heroes who win never come

To hear their countrya welcome home!

We thrill to the martial deeds, with wonder.

All honor to thoee who sleep out yonder !

There must, there shall be victory !

But till there comes that glorious day

I wait with fears I cannot tell.

I loved my lads so well, so well

Ood reat the feet that dare not tire

Ood guide the eyea that look through flr*.

Steady the hands— until the story

Rings round the world to BriUln'a glory.

Mrs. Effle I. Forater, Toronta

i s :

li li '

I;) 1; f

"A NEW POWER IN THE WORLD."

heZ^rZ lZ\T:"' """1"'^' '''' "••**'« °' ^'^°^^' When
ne learned from the bravery of our Boys in the field, a new power

had^arlsen in the West. "-Ringing word, from the l/p. TpZZ

"A new Power has arisen in the West."
Triumphant hath Ita rapid progreee been.
Betwixt the Seas ; whose valour, lately seen
On Africa veldts, withstood the trying test.

Oy THK HOl Tll AFRICAN WAR.

Of M .»d .h^ll. with Kngl.nd-. flghUr. b«.
«... .Ill, ,h. u„M „, J^*-

Dr. A. H, Chandler. CooMnc, N.U.

WAR.

The battle cry |. .oundln* -
And forth to the war men go.

From comfort, and p«we .urroundin.
To dMger. dlrtre* and woe ;

To horroTB of death appalling.

They march and we «iy. ■ Ood-.peed' !

In the hour of her dlrea. need.

They murmur not. nor dally

But Tolunteer over the w^irld •
.Around the .tandard they rally
To keep it aloft unfurled.

oJ^ ' ' '"'■ *'''"■ <^o""try, good
OJory. promotion or eutlon.

For Britain as Britons should.

But what of the other story,-

The suffering, the dead, the loss
Dark shadow of war's great glory, '

Son^ husbands, fathers and brothers
Whom vlcfry can ne'er restore.

For those who return no more.

i i

POEMS AND SONGS

The love of freedom Inspiring,

For boundary of land, or fame.
Nation on nation firing

To slaughter, despoil or maim.
May God, in His grace abounding.

Heal hearU that grow sad and sore.
Soon, the noise of the battle sounding

Be heard iu our land no more.

Katherlne A. Clarke, Toronto.

THE CANADIAN : A TOAST.

Tough-muscled Canuck,
Blend of Gallic Are and British pluck,
I love thee b^st of all the free.
I pledge my fullest glass to thee,
Here's luck.

No man hath seen
A better home than thine where'er he's been,
Lord of the Northland, thou art made
With a soul in thee like a temperd blade.
Bright and keen.

Long life and Joy
To thee my tough Canuck— thou best alloy .
Oe pioneer and hero blood,
^hou foremost l.M o'er field and flood. '.-
Britain'* boy.

Hon. T. R. K. Mclnnes. Government House, Victoria. B.a

FROM CANADA.

Mother and Queen, from the golden West,
We offer in love at the foot of thy throne.
All we can give thee, our dearest and best.
Fleah of our fiesh and bone of our bone.— '
Take them. Queen of the brave and free.
■They come in their love to die for thee.

'^^S^^^^iS^- ''WS^".

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

Mother and Quaen, from farm and mart,
Prom bank and <..;ory, hill and plain.
They gather .r lovt, for a ;>oble Heart.
To lighten 1' sorrow aiid tor Its pain.
Take them. , ii# n of th« ,'AVt and free
They conw 1;. ;;,o{r )t«ve to die for thee.

Mother and Queen, our home* were bright
And pure aB the air of ihe .sunlit north
But tears have darkened the womanu sight

Take them. Queen of the brave and free
Who come In their lov6 to die for thee.

Mother and Queen of the siKJtless throne,
Lady and Lord of the sea and land
Thou makest our far-born sona thine own
By the tender clasp of a woman's hand -
Take them. Queen of the brave and free
They come In their love to die for thee.'

Mother and Queen, from the sti^ng. glad West.

^^ive thl^'" "T "'*'" ^'•^••^ '^"'- '^•^••'I'-^n ••oam.
rl^ft ^""^ '***'■*"'• **" ^™^«»t and best.
Take them. Queen of our heart and home-
Asking no bounty, favour or fee
They come In their love to die for thee.

Revd. Frederick Qeorge Scott, Quebec.

3!i

CANADA'S SONS ARE THY SONS.

Art thou among my children ?
Then hearken to my call.
Thy brothers wait upon thee.
Now hasten lest they fall.

The bond of Empire binds thee:
The ties of blood are thick.
Answer before thine own sons
But let thy aid be quick.

•wr>c?p^i'!'Wr '^'?^^i^ifM-Tis^isms^^^

3«

POEMS AND SONGS

ifl

ill

Mother of mighty Empire
Thou callest not In vain.
We of thy womb have hearkened.
And we respond again.

Canada's sons ane thy sons.
Loyal are they, to each.
Witness O God of battles
The lesson this will teach.

A unit when foe threatens,
Resistless In our might.
The call to arms we answer,
Shoulder to shoulder flght.

The bond that binds us ever,
The flag that flies on high,
We glory in as Britons ;
For it we'll flght and die.

Send to our brothers greeting.
Bid them be of good heart.
Brothens to brothers hasten.
Only in deam to part.

G. M. Fairchild, Jr., Quebec.

OUR BIT OF " THE THIN RED LINE."

They have gone witJi a people's hopes and prayers
Out over the eastern brine.
. To strike for the might of Britain's right
This bit of "the thin red line."

They have gone by danger of flood and field.
As their brave sires went of yore.
To flght and bleed for the worlds great need.
As Britons have bled before.

To slay or be slain for the loved old flag,
In the cause of the Just and true-
To stand for the right of common earth
And the heaven's open blue.

-ismk.'

r^*

• ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

And over our loyal land to-night

^ our hr'/r"" '"« P^y^-- IJoe- up
For our bit of " the thin red line."

They have gone to fight the freeman's fight
For our far off kith and kin •

In the fight where the right must win ;

For the sacred cause of freedom's laws
To win the glad release '

ZT"^.""^" ''^ '""^'^ <y'-""»'« dread
And widen the gates of peace.

And shame on the soul on British soil.
Where the stars of freedom shine.

That well or 111, to the great brave end
We are Britons from brine to brlnVl

And Whenever the Lion's hunters are out
And danger threatens his lair

^nln! ^°''!^ "^ *'•'" ^"'«' ^^ on that.
Canadian hearts are there-

And stand or fall, though we go to the wall •
Canadian hearts are true "'

B^^rjle^rthVKmZToo"^'^^^'-'

-i:f\rKXr:;ur^--^-«---"

And alien the heart that will not pray
For our soldier-boys to-night.

IZ' ITu' ^^'^ ^^'^ ^^"^ <akee our bread
And drinks our free sunshine. '

^r o:r"bnf ^'t i^r '': •'""'« ^°'--

111 or the thin red line."

W. Wilfred Campbell, Ottawa

POEMS AND SONGS

WHILE OUR SOLDIERS ARE DREAMING OF HOME.

HuBh thee, turbulent vrind of the north !

Cease thy wild, treacherous play ;
Curb thy fleet steeds In their reckless career,

Flecked with the white ocean apray !

Rest thee, fierce pulse of the clamorous deep !

Oalm the mad pranks of thy wave !
Guard thou the vessel where, dreaming to-night,

Sleep the chosen of Canada's brave.

Shine o'er them tenderly, pale stars of night ;

Though valiant soldiers they be.
Bless the young hearts that are dreaming of home.

Out on the lone-tossing sea !

Load them, thou - glorious flag of the free.

To hasten an Eniipire'e Joy !
Cheer the sad hearts that are waiting at home

News of their brave soldier boy.

Miss Margaret Evans, Hampton, N.B.

TRANSVAAL HO !

Sons of a clime where freedom reigns,

And brethren breathe alike God's air ;
Go J Break forever serfdom's chains.

And hunt each hell hound from his lair.
What tho' a varied host you seem.

Shoulder to shoulder firmly stand ?
What heart may face your rifles' gleam.

Or teet your skill of eye and hand ?

Great ocean calm your swelling waves

And keep your fierce winds in your hold ;
No Viking marshalls here his slaves !

To waste your shores, or gra^p men's gold ;
Our sons, tho' arm'd, are arm'd for peace.

The knife the t>eri!ed limb must save ;
Where'er they tread, mens' wrongs, shall cease.

And up shall spring the trodden slave.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

And when loud swells the battle's din.

And shot and shell rend earth and sky
Our thoughts for you will rise to Him

Who sends our meed from heavens" high.
While mothers, sisters, sweethearts pray

And mingle with each prayer a sigh
Tour Fathers aye will proudly say,

We know our boys will " Do or die."

May Afrlc t/oubles cease to toss ;

May Cape and Cairo dayspring see •
Till all beneath the "Southern Cross"

Raise one grand song of liberty !

Revd. Duncan Anderson, Monymusk, Que.
f

OUR LADS.

Our lads go forth— like knighta of old

To arid plains, oer surging sea.
Led by no lust of hireling gold

But love of sacred liberty !
Our sea-girt mother-lsIe, from far.

Summons her chlldien,-«cattered wide •
They spring,— as wakee the note of war.
To flght for freedom, at her side !
They hasten, at her call.

To battle, in our name !

Resound the loud acclaim,

Qod shield them — one and all !

■

•We follow on, with thought and prayers,
In the rich-freighted vessel'B wake
Through northern chill, through tropic airs-

Oh winds, blow softly for her sake !
She bears the hopes of hearts that bleed

With parting pangs, with aching fears ;—
Oh hear our Canada's God-speed !

Thou who must lead, where duty steers :
They go, at duty's call

To battle, in our name; —
Resound the loud acclaim,—
God shield them. — one and all :

POEMS AND SONGS

What peaceful yeart essayed to do

Crista and sorrow swift complete,—
Stir our wide Emplrt* through and 'through.

TIH, with one throb, her pulses beat '
Prom pine-crowned hill and sun-baked strand
Prom Queen and peasant,— cot and hall — '
One yearning breathes from land to land.—
Ood guard our warriors.— one and all !
They go at 'Britain's call.

To battle In her name. *
Resound the loud acclaim,
Gtod guard them— one and all';

Oh Ood of battles,— Truth and Right,

Who seest, as no mortal may,—
Whose hand can guide through paslion's night.

To dawning of a glorious day ;—
Grant victory, as Thou seest best,—

Melt hate to loVe.-tlll slaughter cease,—
Lay sword In sheath, and lance In rest.
And bring our wacderers home In peace »
They go, at Britain's call

To battle In our name, —
Resound the loud acclaim,—
Ood guard them— one and all {

Miss Agnes Maule Mackar. (" Fldells ") Kingston.

: *

A PLEDGE.

I^rd Ernest Hamilton contributes these few lines to the Pali
Mall Gazette under the above title.

"Canada, AustralaPia, we stock of a Northern land, '
Are stiff, and reserved, and proud, and the words that we
speak are few ;

But we look 3^u straight in the face, and we grip your out-

stretched hand.
And God deal so with us. as we deal. In your need.' with you."

*^^EM*~3Sl

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

AFRICA.

Thunder of guns on the mainland,

Trooping of ships on the' sea.
Hissing of shot and screaming of shells.

What may this tumult be ?
Look ! :.om the nbrth and the south ;

See ! from the east and the west.
An Empire's sons from every clime.

Are touched by a strange unrest.

Thunder of guns on the mainland.

Speeding of ships from afar ;
Sons of the Empire, east and west,

Are one in the strife of war.
East and west in the strife are they,

One in the ^ atest Joined ;
And the lagging world looks after them,

From the lowlands far behind.

Thunder of guns on the mainland.

Trooping of ships at sea.
Hissing of shot anu screaming of shell.

Boom out the century ;
For east and west are one in the strife

When the war-drum beats alarms :
And an Empire's sons, from every clime.

Shall meet the world in arms.

Revd. R. Newell, Markdale, Ont

CANADA TO THE EMPIRE.

We come, Britannia, at thy call.
Whig and Tory, Celt and Gaul,
A serried square, a mitred wall.
Of British subjects we.

We come from Abraham's ancient plain.
From Queenston Heights and Lundy's Lane
And as we march our one refral»i,
Is loyalty to Thee.

;■..*■'

^■iimm

POEMS AND SONGS

If
II ■

And a. at Ogdenaburg of yore.

aI^"""!; '"^*** "•* P"^« -wore.
And crucifix and broad claymore
Did vie In Loyalty.

Even so to-day, we firmly stand.
All creeds and classes. hanS in hand
As loyal to the Motherland,
'n sweet community.

A thonsand strong, we represent
The might of half a continent
• in aim and Inspiration blent, '
Britannia, one with Thee.

In sinews of expanding girth.
The peer of any power on earth ;

We hold It all for Thee.

Our Infancy, her hand careeeed

Our every wrong, her love redr«sed
with tenderest agony.

FJX)m tutelage she taught the way

To nationhood's self-conscious sway •

And Shall we not. in part, repay "^ '
This love-wrought legacy?

^ut cfiamplon of freedom's ward,
^"~"f,!*-« defender, guard
DesP^ler of the despot's shard
Empire, we come to thee. '

Empire of peaceful arts, the home.
We Stand beneath thine ancient dome
And help roll back in broken ftoem

Each storm that threatens Thee.

Now frantic naUons In mad hate
Defiance loud hurl at thy gate
And Jealous of thy high estate';
Empire, we come to Thee.

?«K^

wm.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

All one, in heritage and heart.
In travail thou, in rei .a we smart.
Whatever fate may be thy part.
We stand or fall with Thee.

The first in all thy vast domains.
And thine ow. valor In our veins.
To purge the earth of serfdom stains,
Empl ?, we ome to Thee.

Thy burdens we take up and bear,
That in thy triumphs we may share.
And proudly show what we can dare,
Kmpire, for love of Thee.

And, if the worst come to the worst.
And powers in concert on thee burst,
Our blood shall quench their hellish thirst,
Or e'er we yield or flee.

Lord God of Hosts, her sun and shield.
No power on earth can make her yield.
Or force Britannia from the field
Of proud supremacy.

God bless our country and our Queen,
God grant u« peace, broad-based between
A suffrage wise and conduct clean.
Our prayer shall ever be.

Revd. P. M. McEachem, .Waterdown, Ont

■

TO THE CANADIAN CONTINGENT.

We've rallied round the old flag, we leave our native land.

Singing our own Canadian war song.
We're going to help old England on Afric's sunny strand.

Singing our own Canadian war song.

CHORUS.

The Empire forever— the flag all so scarred.
Our brothers are calling, we haste to their aid ;
And we'll fight jeseath the old flag for which our fathers fought.
, Singing our own Canadian war song.

P^''^*!

'■''\^^^-

P0KM8 AND SONGS

(

CHORUS.

Sin.,„, our own cZZV.^ il^ '"^ ^"''-

tJIORUS.

When the flghtln' ii'i i. .nn ^

singing: our own Canadian lar JSg ' '° ''^ *=°'-*'

CHOBC8.

singing our own Canadla^'wlrsrng °"' ""'*" '""*"'

G. M. Fairchlld. Jr., Quebec.

OUR CONTINGENT.

There's a cry upon the air
From a land supremely falr-

ThZ ""■ ^"""'^ ^"""'^^ «°'»' '"I'- Play;
There, oppression, growing bold
Ever grasps a firmer hold
Of all -Outlanders'.rlghts. they say.

»¥^i'

^iii-r^'m."

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

But, the whole world must know,

That 'Our iMdy of the Snow.'

C5ould not Ilaten to auch a cry for aid ;

And cold and heartleaair,

Her blood relatione, see

Plerc'd by a Boera' savage blade.

Though it's truly a ' far ery,'

And tbere'a chance for some to die,—

She bids her bravest sons to arm. '

And boldly cross the sea.

To make those Boera flee

Sre they can do much harm.

Her sUlwart sons, so bold ; -^ '

Young, middle-aged, and old,—

Are preparing In haste for the fray;

But they are not all required.

Though with martial glory flred. •

Some heroes at. home must stay.

But those, that cross the main.

When they return again.

We'll crown their heads with laurel green.

For we know they'll win the day,

And end oppression's away.

To the glory and the honor of our Queen.

But we, old 'vets,' that remain,

Will sing the old refrain,—

"Rule Britannia, Britain rules the waves,"

Till the song on echo's pinion

Files the length of this Dominion.—

" Oh, Britons never shall be slaves ! "

W. H. Cox, Oranby, Que.

TO ARMS ! TO ARMS !

A BONO FOB THE CANADIAN CONTINGENT.

To arms ! to arms ! all Englan^s sons rise up from east and west;
What matter if a thousand guns are pointed at the breast •»
For Britons never will be slaves, oppressors, or oj eesed '

POKMS AND 80NO8

Rlli« up! riM up! heroic km. th« braveit of the earth •

"*k.-k' "*"• "*"• "**"'• "••"•• *"• ""y 'hat gave thee
Dirtn ;

And manr « elre hi. blood hath .hed to prore hi. nation', worth.
Quail not! quail not! what matter. It though thou«nd foe. adrance
Remember too the "thin. r«l. line" that marked the fall of FranVe!

To arm.! to arm.! for mother land, and Mrike the deadly blow !
Let crlm«>n blood waah hill and dale, and .uin the oceanVltor •
And down with him who furl, the flag or lay. the Empire ^Z i
Strike for the flag, the glorlou. flag, that wave, oer land and Ma.
Stand man to man In wrrled rank, for Ood will .ide with thee !
A thou.nad .un. may riM and wt. but .till on England free !

Whit"™..!" T" l""""^ ^"'"'"'' "*'"■• "" "P '•^'" ^ »«>«» we.t!
^K l^! "■ " * 'houMnd gun. are pointed at the breaat ?
The BrltUh race .hall .till remain thrlce-happy and thrlce-ble.t !

R. H. Phllllmore, M.D.. Cookahlre, Que.

life."

INVOCATION.

O Ood, Creator, look not down
In wrath upon Thy creature.' .trife,
Pity our frame, of duat, and bring
Some good from out this "life for

Thou rldeat on the beam, of light.
And markeat scene, of woe and death.
Where man hi. fellow'a blood doth .piii
And triumph* in hi. latest breath.

O Thou, from whom all good doth eprlng
Author of Juatlce. Truth and Right,
O'erahadow, with protecting wing.
Our brothers, foremoet In the fight.

Guard each as precious In Thy sight.
The lives Thou gavest. eafely hide
Within the hollow of T^y hand,
Till Peace shall reign and Right preside.

Miss Margaret Howe Pennington. Halifax.

'Jl

^..im^-'i^w^ ^^^mmm ]^M m.mM~ml&^ TMi^im-

ON THE 80UTII AFRICAN WAR.

A PRAYER Dl'RINO BATTLE.

TO OVM COUHAttKH IM SOUTH AFMCA.

F&ther, I call on Thee :
Belching guns Bhroud me In vapor and fume.
Deaths awful IlKbtnlngi fast flash In the gloom.
Ruler of Battles, I call on Thee ;

Father, oh! guide Thou roe.

Father, oh! guide Thou me :
Lead me to rlctory. or to death In the strife.
Lord, I avow Thee. Thou Sovereign of Life !
Lord, as Thou wilt, then, oh ! guide Thou me :

Ood, I confess but Thee.

Ood, I confess but Thee :
As In the whlsp'ring of leaves in the night.
So In the thunder and storm of the light,
FounUIn of Grace ! I perceive but Thee :

Father, then, bless Thou me.

Father, then bless Thou me :
Into Thy bands, my poor life, I resign :
Thou canst recall It: all life U Thine :
Uving or dying, oh! bless Thou me :

Father, I worship Thee.

Father, I worship Thee :
This is no conflict for earthly luat, OLord,
Man's sacred rights, we adjust by the sword
Dying or conquering, I bow to Tnee :

Father. I yield to Thee.

Father, I yield to Thee :
Stricken be 1, by the lightning of Death,
Gushing my heart's blood, and falling my breath.
Receive me, Jehovah ! i yjeld to Thee :

Ood ! I appeal to Thee !

W. A. Wanlew. Sergt. R.C.A., London, Ont.

¥:

fsmr wwrnm:.- ^,r\i ■.^>'V7 r'^ TSff?"

•.I.

.48

POEMS AXD SONGS

i !

THE EMPIRE'S BATTLE-HYMN.

Lord God. who long hast been our .hleld-
Than Whom there is no higher Power-
Cur homage now to Thee we yield.

Lord, guide us in dread battle's hour
Give U8. we pray. 'Thy guiding light.
That we may tread t^e path of Right

Our loved Empire la at war.

And we believe our cause la JuBt •
O Thou Who guldest every star ! '

In Thee alone we put our truat
Lord God of battles, If Thou wilt
Our blood In vain anall not be apllt.

Our fight we know la Freedom's own
In Freedom's cause we draw the blkde •

To overthrow the tyrant's throne
We now Implore Thy mighty aid.

Lord. If we fight for gold or gr«ed

Grant us that we may not succeed.

The stubborn prejudice and hate
The selfish pride of race and creed.

The tyranny of small and great.
On men of our own BrlUsh breed •

Does not all this a cause afford

For drawing now the Empire's sword ?

Have borne too long oppressions fro;n •

LIt^ ':"•'' ^"^"^ ^pp^". •

O King of kings and Lord or lords.
Let us not use vain boastful words !

Lord Ood! be Thou our Empires guide

Shoulder by shoulder, side by side '
Give us th. strength to gu„d her life
Thro luring light and darkness deep
O Lord. Thy chosen Empire ^p ;

W. F. Wiggins, Toronto.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

FAREWELL !
To the lat Caiuidlan contingent on their departure from Quebec.

You II be the warders of a country's pride •
On you-whatever good or 111 betide-
Depends the honour of your native land.

Your every act an Empire's eyes will see ■
Upon your courage resta a people's fame ;

Blood bought on Abrams plain- for chivalry.

We wish you God-speed all your miselon through •

We pray that fortune may your steps attend ;
Our heartB are with you In whate'er you do •

nr^H '''"*^,/"" ''«» o" trust you will defend.
Brothers, adieu! an earnest, warm adieu '
In life,-in death-to Canada be true.

George Graham Currle.

COMFORT.

" The love of all thy people, comfort thee "
Thy sweetest poet voiced the tender thought

And would repeat It, had he lived to see '
The sorrow that the closing year has brought

Upon thy royal heart ; as each sad day

Won ever to forgetfulness. yet may

The love of all thy people comfort thee.
The love of all thy people, in thine Islee
tJ.''®^ ^"^ '*"■ P^*'® *°*' P'"'^y«' 'o"- »t though strong

Not tears, should be thy portion all day long
And those who die to keep thine Empire whole.'

And all within its borders, safe and free
Pray, even in the passing of the soul

Almighty God to bless and comfort thee

'^1

POEMS AND SONGS

And we, In those new lands, thou hast not seen.

Strong, proud, free children of the South or West,
After our God, we reverence thee, our Queen,

And offer our hearfs-dearest and our beet ;
And each would make thy heavy grief his own.

So that thou mlghteet from the weight ibe free :
May this rich warmth of love about thee thrown.

This love of all thy people, comfort thee.

Miss Sarah E. Srlgley, BritainviUe, Ont.

•I",

" WHAT WB HAVE WELL HOLD."

Dear old England ! we are thine.

Thine in peace or war,
Sons, who for thy glory shine

E'en in battle sore,
Strike, for liberty ifor others,

As in days of old,
We are Britons, men and brothere,

" What we have we'll hold."

Mother country J to thy need

Swift thy children fly.
Equal freedom sUll our creed.

Dare to do and die.
Tor the love of home and nation

Not for gain or gold.
We but fight for thy salvation,

"What we have we'll hold."

Miss Katharine A. Clarke, Toronto-

THE GRAY MOTHER.

Lo, how they come to me,

LMig through the night I call them.
Ah, how they turn to me.

Eaat and South my chUdren scatter

North and West the world they 'wander.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Yet they come back to me,

Come with their brave hearts beating,
Longing to die for me.

Me, the gray, old, veary mother.
Throned amid the Northern waters.

Where they have died for me.
Died with their songs around me,
' Girding my shores for me.

Narrow was my dwelling for them.
Homes they builded o'er the ocean.

Yet they leave all for me.

Hearing their mother calling.
Bringing their lives for me.

Far from South seas swiftly sailing.
Out from under stars I know not.

Come they to light for me.

Sons of the sons I nurtured,
Ck)d keep >*ieto safe for me.

lioog ago their fathers saved me.
Died for me among the heather.

Now they come back to me,

Come, in their children's children,
Brave ot the brave for me.

In the wilds and waves they slumber.
Deep they slumber in the deserts,

Rise they tnm graves to me,

Graves where they lay forgotten,
Shades of the brave for me.

Yet my soul is veiled in eadneas,
For I see them fall and perish.

Strewing the hills for me.

Claiming tihe world in dying.
Bought with their blood for m&

I!: '!
I' '

POEMS AND SONGS

Hear the gray, old Northern mother.
Blessing now her dying children,—

Ood keep ye safe for me,

Chrigt watch ye |n your sleeping.
Where ye have died for me.

And when God's own slogan soundeth.
All the dead world's dust awaking.

Ah, will ye look for me ? ,

Bravely we'll sUnd together,
I and my sons with me.

L. MacLean Watt.— The SpecUtor, Londo".

1 1

THE CHILDREN OF THE BLOOD.

Or ?h! 'if H"""^, Y""* '"""^'""•^ ^°^ **> *"»»P '^ storm-bent pine.
So. iLf" J'"** '"'"'■"°« "P'"'^"-"* '^"^ Fuego to the Line ?

JS ^ °\7"^'' "'"'^ °"* ^"^ '^ '^'^ «»« -«* «»« -beer ;
Far clearer than your siorm-wlnd is the call that greets u« here.

^r^n ""f J^"^ *"■""" ®*°°''" ^"^"^ y°" •^«»'- «>« «"n>'nons roll.
From mountain crest to river bed, from Tropic to the Pole.

It floats out o'er the lonely veldt, acroee the prairie grass ;

?hen o^h^ ""f'' ^«"=h*nt'8 ear where hurrying thousands pass ;

Sr^t^ ^ !: ^^"^ *^'"'"* P***^' '' *>'<^ tihe hlllman comV;

The stockman gathers from the plain, the dalesman from his home.

Men hear it in the workshop as it echoes down the st«et.

It stirs the ready hand to arm, the loyal heart to beat.

It pea^oer the desert waste, it thunders o'er the flood

The Free Land'a call to Free Men, to the Children of the Blooi.

^ere'!r "^'.^r" *"^ ^°°*'' «*"°^ «^'- Triple Cross on high,
^r^r.?.' "?" '="''« '^ '^'^- '••°«« oot the stern repl,!-
We hear thy voice. Great Mother, and we answer to thy cail
The offspring of thy mighty loins, spread o'er the seagirt bal
We sti^d with thee in union,-Lord God. be Thou ou^^We
Wield Thou the Sword of Justice, but this link let n<^e dlvWe '
We bring our lives, a free gift, for the land all freemen love '
For liberty and equal law, our charter from above "

t^n^ Tr ^T Hr"^ '**^"'"^ '^ °"'' ««• ^t*'^" KTlmly stood.
So now, before the Nations, stand the Children of the Blood.

C. M., in London " Speaker."

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

GOOD- BY.

The following veraee were found In the tunic pocket of a trooner
la the Imperial Yeomanry, killed In a South Afrlc^.klrmlsh tKJ
were In a glrl'g handwriting.

Your way lies over the hillside.

Out In the rain and sleet ;
Out in the world's wide turmoil,

Where bustle and business meet.
But mine by the noiseless fireside.

Where the fanciful embers glow
With a changeful, life-like motion— .

KisB me before you go.

My quiet way will be haunted

With visions none otherai can see,
Glances more precious than diamonds.

Smiles full of meaning to me.
The sound of a welcome foototep,

A whisper tbrllllngly low.
Ah. thought will clasp memory closely !

Kiss me before you go.

For this world is full of mischances.
And one of these chances may fall

That we ne'er again In the firelight
Make one shadow upon the wall.

Oh, thence, once more in parting-
Alas ! thait It must be so—

Leave me a fond benedicUon—
Kiss me before you go.

■*1

;il:

THE VOICE OF THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND.

We have lent to our country all

(Well knowing, well counting the cost), .

By her colours to stand or fall.

The Treasures we held to the most.

POEMS AND SONGS

In the Blgh of our wak'nlng breath.
In the sob of our nightly prayer,

We know, to the portals <rf death.
Our brave ones will do or dare.

And the wires of fate have In charge
The tidings for which we sicken,

Whether terrors our hearts enlarge,
Or fond hopes our pulses, quicken.

Ah! what shall be bom of to-day,

Or what, then, brought forth to-morrow.

Is the care that has come to stay.
The anxious thought, kin to sorrow.

'Tis the link that in close-drawn band
Anear brings us each unto each.

With helping hand held out to hand
In emotions too po^wit for speech.

If the lessons we're learning to-day
Were needed Jn truth and In deed.

To show us the narrow Gateway,
And lead us therein to make speed.

Then, grant us to lay It to heart.
Let, Father, Thy chastening cease.

Make foul fiends of war to depart,
And eend us white Angels of p4ace !
B. C. (Countess of) Cork

■Pall Mall Gazette.

A WOMAN'S THOUGHT.

Those left behind! Oh, hardest lot of all •
None of the fierce excitement of the fight •
Only the weary waiting for the news.

The paUent toil by day. the watch by night
X*!!! «>'d'«"!" we have said, who saw them go.
With stem, set faces, eager for the fray
Bade them "God speed!" then tumed us home again
To do our woman's work to wait and pray

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

To scan with anxious eyes the awful list,

Which t«ll8 U8 who are wounded, who are— dead,
And Btni do little deeds of tender love.

In the hushed home from which all Joy is fled.
They have gone forth to help the sore oppressed,

We, left behind, can still the labor share ;
Theirs be the fierce excitement and the fight.

Gups the strong wrestling on the Mount of Prayer!

Ellen M. Blunt.

, i

A SOLDIER'S TREASURE. '^

With a rose In the rim (tf his fawn-colored hat.

And a jingle of sabre and spur,
A soldier rode by in the dawn and the dew

Ere the village was aoaroely astir.
The patter and clatter of sharp little hoofs

Brought her into tae window above ;
Her eyes were as blue as the sky overhead,

Unclouded by sorrow or love.

In the gold of the sunrise they halted below.

Bay mare and brave rider, a space,
And her 'kerchief dropped out as she leaned from the sill,

A fragment of linen and lace.
He caught it In air on the point of his sword,

And buttoned It under his blouse.
And cantered away, but drew rein on the hill, ir

And turned to look back at the house.

While she dreamed of a soldier returning from war.

To halt at her window again.
The mare and her rmer lay dead in the dust

Where bullets were falling like rain ;
And a comrade who passed In a moment of truce,

Stopped over and covered his face
With a 'kerchief he found in the breast of his blouse,

A fragment of linen and lace.

Minna Irving, in Lsalle'st Weekly.

i 1

•ill

POEMH AND SON«»

CRY OP THE BROKBN-HBARTBD.
When the day of battle U ended.

And the cruel suapenM is paat ;
When the hours ot anmlahed waiting

Are over for all at last
Then thoae who are reunited

Will offer their praise to Ood—
But the lad I have waited and longed for

Lies, voloeleu, under the sod.

There were m ly who climbed the hillside

When they stormed the enemy's poet,
There was many a cheer outrlnglng
For the trlumpJi of Britain's hoet
There were many who stxjod unwounded.

Unharmed, at the set of sun.
But the lad I have waited and longed for.
His day of battle was done.

Ere long— by many a flreeide

They will tell of that gallant flght.
They will pral.e those warrior heroes.

The power of Britain's might
Thej ^m speak-wlth awestruck voioea-

Of their commdes among the slain—
But the lad I have waited and longed for

Will speak to me never again.

You are dead for your Queen and your country

You are dead in your htmor and pride !
You are dead that your brother soldiers

Might rise with the trumpet-tide!
You have paid the price of their glory.

As a eoldler would wish to do—
Ah! but my lad that I've longed for

My heart's Just breaKibg for you !

Dora Tlckeis.— The Queen.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

WHISPERS OP WAR.

Told by One of the Forty-Third.

There are whlapers in the canteen, there are whispers In the mesa,
There are whispers wheresoever walked a lad in soldier drees.
Just another such a whisper aa the one that grew and grew.
Till It burst in cannon's thunder on the plains of Waterloo.

It was only just a murmur, but a murmur low and deep.
Like a lion's angry growling when you rouse It from its sleep ;
But It's reached the golden Indies and the wild Canadian shore.
Bound to q>eak again in cannon, as the lions bound to roar.

of them whispers ran like this, "It's bound to

And the burden

come ;

Pull the Uaa'a tall and wake him and you'll find he isn't dumb ;
And If you want to work him 'up to action rougher still.
Rouse his mem'ry too, and whisper in his ear, 'Majuba Hill ! '

" We've been paUent ; don't get talking about foreign policy ;
It is time our debt to settle, and what is to be will be.
We've had one bill receipted. Just sent home from the Soudan,
And to settle up another we are ready to a man."

Ay, tt's reached where'er our language makes the music of the

breeze.
For I've Just received a letter from a chum across the seaa;
And he says, "We all are waiting with old rjnglard heart and hand
For to settle that account, boy. Just received from Boerlaad."

There was whispers in the canteen, there was whispers in the mess.
Till they found a vent in poetry, or we'd had to burst, I guess.
And we wrote a little ballad, an' we all put in a word ;
Here It Is, "A British War-Song," by the flgnilng Forty-Third.

There's a blot upon our story,
Say whate'er you will,

' Tie that field of death and glory
Called Majuba Hill.

There our vaunted pride was smitten-
Unavenged as yet —

And the honest heart of- Britain
Bums to pay the debt.

-• i

POEMS AND SONGS

D»rk Majub*. yet how glortoua

!>•«»« that lit the fray !
What of him who held vlctorioua

Bbot and ah«ll at bay?
Ay! we've heard the .tory otfm.

And well hear It atlll,
How the nag of truce held Fkrmer

On Majuba Hill.

Should be heard the loud war-i»ttle.

What have we to fear ?
There la music In a batUe

Unto Brltona dear.
Dread and danger make ua calmer,

Strengthen heart and will.
Ay. there'8 many a lad like Farmer

In our Army atlll.

Who la he that comes a-looklng

Neither left nor right ;
With the self-same mler. he carried

In the hottest fight ?
Ky» of steel that match the flwy

Gleam of cross and star ;
Stem and sturdy, atiit and wiry

Bobs of Candahar.

Who Is he to fear a stranger,

On, 'mid shell and eliot.
With a smile for death and danger-

Who could daunt a Scot?
It Is he whose sword made brightness

In the dark Soudan ;
Otorlous and victorious Hector

Of Macdonald's clan.

Let the drums and trumpets rattle,

Need we shirlnk away ?
With such men to guide the battle

Could we lose the day ?
Nay, we would retrieve our honour

Fighting on until
Brightest boaat upon our banner

Dark Majuba Hill.

|! i I

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Now there ain't a Rudyard Kipling In the flghtlng Forty-Third ;
But it Just expressed our feelings and our very souls Is stirred ;
For there's something In the rumour of a war that seems to start
Into action the old Briton In the weakest English heart

True, I know all men are brothers, or at least they ought to be.
But at bay we can't help standlnc— we're a fighting family.

Kate BUhop (Kay Bee).

.»
i

THE BRITISH WALL.

Hammers that beat and hands that weave

And brains that scheme and plan.

Hearts working out in hope and doubt

The destiny of man ;

All these are found with the foam ringed round,

Where the circling oillows fall,

Prom the guardian sea that lips the key

That centres tne British wall.

On floating bridges it spans the ridgee

That seethe oa soundless deeps.

To stretch its banu o'er a northern land

Frcwn the dykes to the Rocky steep*—

In prairies broad, In foresU dim.

By lakes and mountains tall.

The builders build with purpose grim

The grand, old British wall.

It spans the foam that beats like snow

On the coral-dotted sea.

To rise In tropic summer's glow

On the ieles of wild Fiji—

And dusky men by the palm and cane

Where the red-plumed parrots call

In the blistering beat of a torrid heat

Are building the Brltleh wall.

rOEMM AND 80N08

■• ■ I

And down wbvr* the michtx Austral 1*Im

Ar« wt In tiM Southern %m%,

Wh«r« the ebe^ erase wild

O'er the couatleea miles

And untold treaeuree be.

In darksome mines, on sunburnt plains.

They are bulldin, I, .tralght and tall

And .olderin, good with their kindred blood

ThU tower of the British wall.

^t'th?,! '"**■" "-" ""■°"«»' '"• i""*'- deep;
Neath the snow of^lmalay—

?oThe ™„T» "**' '"•" °" *"• *»•*«• •»«>'^.
ro the mute towers of Bombay •

Swarthy, and lithe and tall

True bricks In the British wall.

wnere Natal sUnds by Ihe sea ;

Where Capetown lie. by the silent hill. •

Ships peacefully riding a-iee

InrfhVit T: ""^ •'"'"• "'' "»• ««««• bark
And the Arab howling fall—

WUh*";!* "f""*^ '" * """"nental park
With tlie strength of tn« British wall.

It« gun. have a went for alien blood
r" the war-«hlp8 steaming through.
There « a sandy hlU and a lonely J.ie
Where the wave, of the Red Sea fall ;
And Aden and Perlm grimly .mile ;
We are bricks In the British wall."

SL?'*°^K *°°*"'* ^'^ ^»"«' ""note.
We have bullded them everyone

In a solid line, no sea. confine ;

That knows no setting sun

We have circled the worid'wlth a co«lon bmve

And so braced are Its gtrdero all

That the cannon-8 shot and the *d«,h of the wave

But strengthen the Britlsli wall.

^aa*'

*?'t?^«^-JT"r*v-

ON THK HOUTII AFRICAN WAR.

80 w« Mjr to th« Prank and the MuKOvtta

And the Boer : " So b« It knoT. u !

You may daah youraelvea like a bird In flight

That atrlkM on a abaft of stona ;

But whila F*rMdom atanda and mra bat« a lie.

While Juatice relgna'c'er all,

Your blood will but strenKtlien and beaatify

The face of the brItUh wall. "

The Star." Montreal.

BRITANNIA'S PICCANINNY.

Thia poem la firom the " NaUl AdTertlaer." which will appeal
to our readers. " We are not very big, but we have done our beat
for the honor of the Empire and the Integrity of South Africa, and
we aak for one favor, that the British and Colonial pr^as will not
imagine that Natal is a town In the Cape Colony any more." B.
C. W.. NaUl.

She's the smalleat of the children

In the dear Old Lady's shoe.

And yei the laaa haa ahown the reat

The sort of thing to do ;

For while they have been waiting,

Wny, ahe'a knocked things Into shape,

And ahamed Miss Wacbt-en-BeetJe

And her cousins at the Cape.

Chorus —

She's Britannia's Piccaninny ;

If she isn't very big,

She's a Daughter of the Empire,

So she dooan't care a flg,

Tho'fl she landed in the front of It —

And bound to bear the brunt of it ;

The grim and grisly brunt of it !

m
2?

Natal !

POEMS AND SONGS

She', a plucky HtUe mldset.

It she doMn't run to size.

And though rte'. but a feather-weight

Shell wipe the Dutchman'a eyee.

The way she peeled her jacket

Show, the good old fighting strain ;

J;lrin, ?'•"*'"'••" •»'» ''ave done
watal will do again !

When they told her men were wanted,
WeU. she vowed she would be first
And rolled her volunteer along • '
Before the storm should burnt •
So While the Cape wa. wavering.
And Kept her colors hid.
NatalU flung her flag aloft
And Juat sailed In and— 'did* !

Yes. we love this Piccaninny

And will gather roun^ her shield.

Sworn to keep her motto .talnle..

On the red and bloody field •
J^>r she's loft her honor's kwplng
To her trusty Voluuteere.
So they greet Natalia's banner
With a storm of ringing cheers.

Chorus —

She'* Britannia'. Piccaninny ;
If she Isn't very big.
She's a Daughter of 'the Empire.
Bo She doesn't care a flg.

THB LION'S WHELPS.

TJere 1. «.arlet on the forehead.
Turns to Iron in its place.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

«»

When he halts to face dlaaster, when be turna to meet disgrace.
Stuns and keen and mettled with the life blood of his own.

Let the hunters 'ware who flout him

When he calls his whtlps about him.
When he seU the goal btfore him and he settles to the pace.

Tricked and wounded ! Are we beaten

Though they hold our strength at play ?
We have faced these things aforetimes, long ago, long ago,

From sunlit Sydney Harbor

And ten thousand miies away.
Prom the far Canadian foreaU to the eounda of Milford Bay,
They have answered, they have answered, and we know the answer
now.

From the Britons such as these.

Strewn across the worldwide seas.
Come the rally and the bugle note that makes us one to-day.

Beaten! Let them come against ua,.

We can meet them one and all.
We have iaced the >rld aforetimes, not in vain, not in vain.

Twice ten thousa. . hearts we widowed.

Twice ten thousand hearta may fall.
But a million voices answer: "We are ready for the call.
And the sword w« draw for JusUce shall not see lU aheath again.

Nor our cannon ceaoe to thunder

Till we break their atrength asunder
And the Lion's whelps are round him and the Old Flag over all."

Queensland, Australia News.

it "

I'^ii

"THE ISLAND QUEEN."

She hath raised her hand, the Island Queen.
For a brand's been thrown in the Lion's
And the answer's borne by armed men.
Roll of drums and clatter of steel.
Champing of steeds and bugle peal.
A wail of sorrow and laat good-night.
And cheers for those who go to flght.
Children of the Queen.

den.

Imt

POEMS AND SONGS

She hath raised her hand, the Island Queen.
The black smoke foams trom the funnel mouih
Of a flying squadron speeding south •

r„rt Tk'^" '"^'^ "'^''^ ""^ '^»"'d. «ream.
And the dawn «un klseee the muzzle, grim

r,fn. """"^ ""**"^ '" ^'•^ »»"•««. dim.
Children of the Queen.

She hath raised her hand, the Island Queen
From a hund.^ hu.s a flood poure do^ '
Of stern men clad In khaki brown
Ohoorka. Afrldl. Sikh, Sepoy.
Highlanders, heroes of Dargal,
Line of cavalry, riflemen, guide,
Hurrying down to the trooper's' side,
Children of the Queen.

She hath raised her hand, the Island Queen
A cry comes up from the, Austral land

We send our best for the Motherland"-
And Canada's voice sweeps round the world
Wherever Uie meteor flag's unfurled
" Saxon sired, full kin are we.
Bred by the Mistress of the Sea,"
Children of the Queen.

She hath raised her hand, the Island Queen
And Buller's a bundled thousand men '

And standing ben.nd them millions ten
Or twenty If ever the need should be.
Keady to stand or fight or die
With " Queen and Empire " battle cry
Children of the Queen.

She will raise her hand, the Island Queen
And lightning seal the Maxim's UpJ

When a stubborn foe Is forced to yield

^W.T""*'^*'* ""^'''^ *"» » reddened" field ;
We have beaten you fiUr-Brave men are ye
Go to your homes and henceforth be
Children of the Queen."

R- D. Meyers.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

(tS

BRITANNIA MILITANS.

The ltoplre-3 drum Ib beating ; lu roll goes round the world

The foenuin. fierce and hating, behind hU bwtlon rtands
In courage .carcrty bating, the be.t of Brltalns ba^ '

The Bmplre-8 ho.t. are mui^ring. on Afrlc's burning veldf
FJom the four winds are clustering, brave .nglo-Safon STtL
They come, free men, responding, to Britain', martial can
No craven hearts desponding, in d«ad of BriuTn " fall '

Ser'tlTtiT ,!!• '°*""' ^^"«'' ^'^^ ''^ him still ;
rtZ^^ZS ^* *° °° "*"■ ^''•y "t»~l with dogged will
Though rocks and bullets stay them, they yet will «h, Vi. .
NO earthly power can b«y them, they c;e:ch'tt;lrth?;pt':

?I.lSf**^''''Ki*'J* *" "»~»>blng. with all the fire of youth •
The tyranny aa«lllng. shall perish all despite '

Sf f*T V^ "*''*'■ *^"*^'"' "he knows no panic friaht •
She calls. Her sons abounding, come over land and wave
These are her walls surmundlng. these will her honor «;«.

Rev. Andrew MacNab, Lucknow. Ont.

'ti«f

I
■ft"

LINBffl ON THE WAR.
Throughout the long dull night the bivouac

Prom rock to crevice, as the foe reUrea
As stealthily beyond where sentries keep

Their nlghUy vigil, and the long watch t?re.
The weary eye forbidden now to sleep •

While the deep sUence reigns, so «»a to j;ieM

To storm and tumult over camp and field.

flres

POEMS AND SONGS

And wLile In homes far off beyond the sea

The mothera, wives, and sweethearts of the brave

Lift holy hands to Heaven imploringly,

That He who notes the sparrow's fall, may save

Bach cherished one ; yet Britons must be free.
And freedom's price 1* havoc and the grave ; —

And many a heart, with hope now beating fast.

Shall rot in foreign wilds when all is past *

Yet from that soil shall spring in. after years

A harvest of requital, such as brings
Joy to the reapers, when the mist of tears

Has passed away for ever on the wings
Of fluttering darkness, and a day appears

Of ceaseless progress, which imaginings
Could never dream of, and which speaks release,
And boundless empire, and a world ai peace.

Rev. J. R. ^^ewell, Harkdale, Ont.

WAR.

The battle cry is sounding and forth to the war men go.
From comforts and peace surrounding, to danger, distress and woe.
To horrors of death appalling they march and we say "God-speed,"
For they answer their country's calling, in the hour of her direst
need.

They murmur not, nor dally, but volunteer over the world.

Around the standard they rally, to keep it aloft, unfurled,

For banner and Queen and nation, they flght for their country's

good.
Glory, promotion or station, for Britain as Britons should.

But what of the other story, the suffering, the dead, the loss.
Dark shadow of war's great glory, her crown is the nation's cross,
Sons, husbands, fathers and brothers, whom victory can ne'er

restore.
The weeping of wives and mothers for those who return no more.

The love of country Inspiring, for boundary of land, or fame.
Nation on nation firing, to slaughter, despoil or maim.
May God in Hia grace abounding, heal hearts that are sad and sore.
And the noise of the battle sounding, be heard In our land no m<H^.

Mlw Katherine Clarke, Tomnto.

■■jrf!

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR,

«r

IN WAR TIME.

Southward are laces set —
The Btlrring music of th« marching feet.
That woke the nations with its rhythmic beat.

Rings on the pavement yet

Across the earth and sea
A long Jme stretches— men and men and men :
We may not look upon the like again,

Nor braver sight could be !

Yonder among "^e guns,
The wine of llfe-and Britain knows its price-
Is poured out in a lavish sacrifice,

Where fall her precious onea.

This page of history-
Written in warriors' blood and women's tears •
Ending the mighty volume of the years.

That make our century —

Will be a tale sublime,
When the great empire-heart grows calm again •
Britannia's eye«, through all this stress and pain

Look to that after-time.

Mrs. Effie I. Porster.

THE SOLDIER'S CHRISTMAS DREAM.

Til; ^^T^ ^^' '° '"'■*'*• "'"' °'«^" '^o"^" ^"^'^t sway.
The BrlUsh troops are rwrtlng. after a long and weary day
A soldier wrapt in slumber lay there dreaming of his home
In Canada s far-off northern clime, across AOantlc's foam.

• * • • « ,

He once again is seated by his own endeared fireside
Famlltar forms surround him at this happy Christmas-tide.

And holly boughs and mistletoe are deftly twined between

js?

POEM8 AND SONGS

Hto d«ar old moUwr by the flr« aiU knitUns In hw chair ;
Her loving features lighted by the pleasant ruddy glare.
And bending o'er the baby's cot is his darling love and wife.
Whose winsome smiles have often smoothed the rugged path
life.

While gathered round their ftither-s chair, his chubby little boys
Can talk o< naught but Santa Claus, and skates, and games, and
toys.

When bedtime comes, they climb his knee, to kiss a fond " Oood-

NlghV
And hanging up their stockings, they retire In great delight

Then how his heart is gladdened, as he decks the Christmas tree.
And thinks of all the morrow's Joys, and the loud and childish glee.
While from wUhout the merry peal of the Joyous Christmas bells
Ring out anew "Good Will and Peace "; on the frosty air It dwells.
• • • • • •

He wakes; but hark, thajt sound Is strife! And look, a rifle's gleam!
Alas, the vision of his home wtd but a passing dream !
The bells were the boom of cannon, his couch the blood-stained
veldt :

Hie roof is the vault of heaven, and war is the Joy he felt.

But like a soldier and a man, he'll proudly take his stand.

And flght, as true Canadians should, for Home and Motherland.

Thomas Whelan, Montreal.

THE HIGHLAND SOLDIERS FAREWELL.

Farewell, my highland hame,
A long farewell,

May I return again.

Oh ! who can tell !

Oh ! but my heart is wae ;

Good-bye is hard to say.

But time brooks no delay.
Farewell, farewell.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Hark! 'tta the bacl«'s trill,

Loudly aod clear.
And the Wild war-plpe»' .hriU,

Vmilt on my ear ;
On Afric'a disUnt shore,
Mid wafa wild din and roar-
D«u- land. I'll leva thee more.

I^rewell, farewell.

Bat If kind fortune wills,

I shall return,
To my loved heather hills.

No more to mourn •
When war's wild bla»U blow
No more the hearing sigh.
Or the sad parting ory.

Farewell, farewell.

E- Bain, Montreal.

by.

THE MARCH OF THB HIGHLAND BRIGADE.

""'rltnlT?'' '"" "»• °"«*' '»' «»« Highland Brigade

Caledonia's son. of the kUt and the plaid.
Ay toremoat in danger, right onward they go
Th« ^^^ »>»^« but one object, and that Is the' foe.
The pipers are blowing wi' might an' wl' main

Th« h ^"'°'"' "•* Campbells are coming again
The bayonets are fixed, mark the flash of .^e S

See ! see ! how the foeman fall backward and reel.
Chorus. —

Then forward the men of the Highland Brigade
Ay ready and willing, and never dismayed'
True sons of McGreg*. Argyll and J^hiel

McKensle, McDonald. McLean and McNeil.
Your auld mlther Scotia remembers wl' pride

Whenthl/*"" ^""^ "'* «"'"'«« o" turned the Ude
When the issue was doubtful, and brave men did fear

How the Highland Brigade thundered up wi' a cheer;

POEMS AND SONGS

Then Moulder to sboolder, brav» aoiu of old Oaul,
B« »y true to your colours, whatever befall,

Aa ye march proudly forward sae Ballant an' true,
Auld Scotland expects that your duty you'll do.

Chorus.

So proudly ye march wl" your colour* before.

Emblazoned wi' actions and battles galore,
Corunna, Quebec and famed Waterloo,

In Egypt, the Alma, and India too.
And the Boers of the Transvaal (tho' bravely they fought).

Had to yield to the charge of the conquering Scot,
Then keep bright your name, lads, and ne'er let it fade.

And your country will honour the Highland Brigade.

i ,

Chorus.

E. Bain, Montreal.

THE BRAES 0' DEE.

A Lament for the Highlanders Slain In South Africa.

'Twaa gloamin' 1' the Brackley wuds, and sweet the maTli sanf.

As doon the jlnkln' bumle's side I tentily did gang;

And there I spied a lanely lass, fair as the flow'rs o' spring.

But nnco.waesome were the words I heard the laasie sing;—

" Hoe dune, hae dune, ye bonnie birds, that lilt sae blythe a strain;

How can ye even hint o" Joy to ane whase Joys Ara gane T

Nae voice, but that o' dule, should ring amans the braea o'Dee,

Sin' «ruel war has stown the pride o' a' the North Conntree."

I crap ahint a birken buah, and e'ed the do>fu' maid,

Tlie win" had tlrl'd her raven locks, the de\i was on her plaid ;

She cuist to heaven an eerie look wad cowed a heart o" atane.

And aye she clash'd her Illy looves, and aye she made her maen:—

" Yestreen the Glamour sels'd my saul and lang entrane'd I lay;

I saw the deid-llchts bumin' blue on bonnie Inveraye;

The Jowin' o" an eld« iit bell was soundin' owre the Dee,

And plaided Shapes, wi' never a sign, gade llnkln' doon Glenshee."

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

By thla I trow'd the law waa fey. and tain bad allpt awa

For death or madneaa was the doom whene'er her gi-^ce mlcht fa';

But wl a set and ahilplt face, she heedleaa paas'd me by,

And far Into the getherln' mirk I heard her waefu* cry'—

" O. bon a rie ! O. bon a rie ! they lie by ford and at«ep

The wild beast o' the desert howls Abune their dreamlCM sleep-

And fartfrae CasUe Gordons CSraigs. and frae the braes o' Dee

The bluidy sands hae smoord the pride o' a' the North Countree ! "

Robert Reid, Montreal.

Brackley. Olenshee, Inveraye. Castle Ctordon. Deeslde.— All names
of places in the Gordon country, Scotland.

THE DIRGE OF THE illGHLAND BRIGADE.

Out wailed the Pipes to the Strains of the " Flowers of the Forest."

Oh. strangely, o'er the veldt, where winds the Modder River.

Sounds the pibroch on the sultry tropic air.—
Sadly marched the broken remnant, while the bagpipes' walling
quiver

Wail, the dead " Flower " of ScoUand. lying there!
There's a long, lonely grave near by the Modder water.

Where the round hills rise purple towards the sky.
And the greening veldt is red with yestreen's cruel slaughter

There, far tram Bonny ScoUand. they must lie'
Oh, there's mourning, 'numg the hills and on the heather.

There's sorrow supped in mony a str«th and glen
For the gallant hearts that sleep the long, last sleep together.

Forr the lads who shall ne'er see home again !

"Dule and Wae," the bagpipea moaned, "for the fatal night and
order

Sent the lads into the deadly ambushed line,"
But they fought and fell, unflinching, on the sun-baked Afric border

As their fathers did on Flodden field,— langsyne !
" Steady, men !" the leader shouted, as the storm of bullets, flying

Rained down, sudden, from the blazing mouth of hell-

POEMS AMD SONGS

Then, 'mid the (imHy hillocks, their brave Qenerml lay dying.
With hla men around him, flghtlng, aa they tell !
Oh,— theree mourning, 'mang the hllla and on the heather,—
There's sorrow supped In mony a strath and glen.

For the gallant hearts that sleep the long last sleep together.—
For the lads who ahall ne'er see home again !

Bravely charged the " Light Brigade," through Death's valley, dark
and gory.

And there's mony a British trophy of renown.
But there's nane among them touched, with a more pathetic story

Than the tartans that so gallantly went down !
Oh— faithful on to death— they guarded Britain's flag and honor,

'Mid their ancient foemen, flghtlng, side by side,
Though far from Bonny Scotland, their last thought was upon her,

Let them reat In peace together, where they died !

Oh there's mourning 'mang the hills and on the heather.

There's sorrow supped in mony a etrath and glen,—
For the gallant hearts that sleep the long last sleep together,—

For those who shall ne'er see home again !

Miss Agnees Maule Machar, (Author of "Lays of the True North.")

THE HIGHLAND BRIGADE AT MAGBRSFONTEIN.

Hats off, and a cheer for the Highland Brigade,
That march'd to iU fate like a awpa on parade!
With plaids flung back, and the blue steel gleaming.
And shrill in the atarllght the war-pipe screaming!
Would ye know how the records of heroes are made ?
Oome listen this Ulo of the Higland Brigade.

The General gazed with a troubled eye

On the scowling ramparts, grim and high;

• The way will be rough, and the flghtlng hot,

I needs must call on the doughty Scot,'

And forth at the word, all undismay'd,

^Vlth a skirl o' the pipes went the Highland Brigade.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Proud children of Albyn I 'tWM •rw- tim aam*.
Too weik have ye itald for jrour nuOchleM fam* \
Mwt Death in hU starkest ehape be defied r ^
Or a well nlsh hopeleee task be triad ?
Whereon can the army's teniet be stayed
If not on the might of the Highland Brigade T

But this waa a deed of derring do,

Too hopeless even for such as you !

Por the moonUin belch'd forth shot and shell.

And smok'd and flam'd like the mouth ot Hell:

And caught In the murderous ambuscade

WM* their chief 1' the midst, fell the Highland Brigade !

Wev not, sad hearts or the SoottUh shore.

That wait for the lads who will come no more:

Man dies gut once,— and your dear ones fell

On the battlefield they grac'd so w^l ;

True to the annals of name and olan.

As their sires have fWl'n since the world began.

With their hand on the steel, and their face to the foe,

And the God of battles to see them go !

And long will their memory's dues be paid,

A cheer, and a tear, for the Highland Brigade !

Robert Reld, Montreal.

'il

A TALE OF TWO CENTURI1».
Bamtoga, 1777— Fraser.

The virgin hills are clad
In their mlmeval beauty,
No son of toil and care
Had ever wooed and won
The maiden earth

Of aaratoga.

I>0£lf8 AMD HONGS

T«t In bar w«lling hMirt
Ar« bubbliac ■prtaca
Of hMling ■ympathy,
^r all wbo com*
In UMd o( raat

To SanUosa.

Ill i

The flm of hhi white race,*
A wounded aoldier,
Seeka reet ; and In thla place
Of quiet aolitude.

In Saratoga.

The murmuring spring

Now low, aweet aonga <rf comfort ting.

And cools the fevered brow,

Of the first wooer

Of Saratoga.

Full two decades have passed.

The IndUn trail Is almost obsolete,

Peace reigns ; war paint and hunUng game

Are on the wane.

And peaceful farms now clothe the land.

Of Saratoga.

Once more the festering cry
Of war rings o nthe star;
And brother wara with brother
For their disputed rlghu

In Saratoga.

The line waa formed.

The charge waa made.

And deadly fire

From fusllade

Poured in from every quarter

> a. ,^..,. ^° Saratoga.

• Sir William Johnson, Bart.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

7ft

T^« quiok tnlMd ajr*
Of th« Omi««1 waniMd
The endangared traopa
Of th« oMitnU band ;
Mountad oo ataad of gray,
WalYtng all warning.
From right wing to centra
He apurred on bia war,
AnimaUng tba troopa
Firing round blm

In F -una

Hla manly form waa aoon on- )neo,
" A boat in blmaelf." G«nf ,l vn. ,.d . r\
" Tba* Engllah 0«i«al ; ! ,^ ,^ ,>,, u
" Take poat and do jroo-. du.,

In Sa. 1 (•,'h.

Tba markaman aimed
From amboaeada.
And Fraaer fall ;
Doing bU doty,
Not wlaaly, but too wall,

lis.

In Saratoga.

Thay buriad bim in his lorad ,redoubt,

In front of the Bngliab camp.

Wbila tba cbaplain prayad,

Tha Iron rainad.

Dnat eloud, like incenae.

Roaa from bia grava,

At airaning aacriiloe,

In Saratoga.

%
The cloaing day, like a deaAh pall, fell
On tbe (wen grave of him they loTed well ;
Bacb manli^ face a atudy.
Tbe hoatile batteriea oeaaed.
Wbile tbe minute guna
Caught up the nefirain
In honour of Scotland's aon
Who waa alaln

At Saratoga.

Jl
ill

l\>KMM AND SC)N(W

A oraitury— flown

On hundrtd wlngwl raan,

or intermingled huM,

or ATer ohanginc light and liuule.

lAkm panoramic picture.

Such !■ our life.

The ehade of strife recedes

And hearte well out

la —ding etreama of aympatby

O'er gravoa

In Saratoga.

Magerafonteln. 1»00— Wauohope.

In the buih of tb« night,
When the world was at reat,
Not a sound wa* heard
But tJie throbbing breaat
And the atealthy atep
Of the Highland Brigade ;
Uke lion crouching
Through Ungled maie

At Magerafonteln.

Our noble men were led blindly on,
But their heads were high.
And their hearts were strong,
Till the fatol rifle
The traitor played.
And at flash of the search light
Their brave faces paled-
Only a moment

At Magerafonteln.

" Steady, men ! Steady "

Waa Wauchope's shout.

While a thousand rifles

Crashed round about.

As the pride of the army lay dying.

The wounded chief with his falling ureath

Died like a Scot cheering on to the death

In the valley

At Magerafontsia.

ON 'fllK HOI Til AFHICAN WAR.

Onward to death

The Dlaik Watch charged,

Like a bear of her whclpe beinf cheated ;

While Swifortha «nd Oordona

With rinfflng rell,

Shook the frownlDg hill.

Which no nortal will

Bhotild dare ever encounter

At Magerafanteln.
As the sun went down.
On the Bleeping Laird,
Kach Highland heart
In hia grave waa laid ;
For to them " Lochaber'a no nore "

At Magerafonteln.
Hie fifty men In the plalda
Of their clan,

Keep vigil aa guarda behind Im.
Aa he led them In life.
He la foremoat in death
With the enemy'a oamp
Frowning o'er him

At Magerafonteia.
Softly the ahade of twilight fell
On the funeral band
Of the silent men,
But each heart a vow had Uken
By the red Jtunpant Hon.
Which floata o'er our land
We will aoon be avenged
For the flower of our bend
Who were ulaln

At Magerafonteln.
A victory we've gained.
Not with aworda stained In blood
Of our armies, dying red
The green flelda and brown wood.
And vulture awooping oer them !
In friendahlp's light
Our hearU re-unlta
O'er two gravat

On Modder and Saratogs.

-.jAb''d..Ji-.(TK,'

POEMS AND SONGS

While the Union >^ag

And Stan and Stripes unite.

In the tender love of the dying,

And tue soft fair hand

Of the Bister band

Smoothes the pillows of slater nations.

May the perfume of love

Rise to heaven like the dove

From the altar of incense undying

In Saratoga and Magenf ontcln.

Mrs. Letltia McGord, Temple Orove, Montreal.

THE HIGHLANDERS' CHARGB AT MAOERSFONTBIN.

In the midst at smoke And thunder.

From the hidden trenches under,
Cwnes a flashing and a crashing, then a smothered human
groan ;

And the Scottish plaids are sinking.

Sinking low, but never shrinking.
Though the air is thick with leaden death and dying moan.

Now a v<rfoe rings ' Steady, Steady,'

'Tis the General's .ever ready,
Though he's Weeding stUl he's heeding soldier-like his
soldier's place,

Now in gore he's prostrate lying,

Now. brave Wauchope's bravely dying.
Calmly dying, nobly set his manly placid face.

Once again the volley hisses.

Standing thick it seldom misMa,
Though 'Us blinding, never minding, onward march the
kilted brarsk

On they dash, the night concealing,

Hidden trap ; and staggering^ reeling,
Down they sink in darkness to a soldier's bloody grave

■•W

i(fl^r)?-'5rJv<;

I^Jte --~;c£T*^

, ,kti

ON THE SOUTH AFKiCAN WAR.!

From the field of batUed glory,
Shall resound the tame-fraught atory,
Gallant leader daring follwer, Scottiah name and ScotUah
worth.
Let ua ahrtne their namea in honor.
While .they real In peaceful slumber.
Till the Judgment a clarion trump shall call the ransomed
soldier forth.

Anon, Maple Creek, Asaa.

ENGLAND AT WAR.

'TIa paat, the hour of partlng'a o'er.

The troopship'a on the main.
And some have looked on England's shore

That ne'er shall look again ;
The last adieus come faint and low,

Borne on the wintry wind-
God's mercy on the men that go.

And those they leave behind !

For them, the strife— for us, the feara

That grow with hope'a delay.
The dally dread, the nightly tears.

For loved onea far away ;
Yet O thougl< low be hard to bear.

And sense of threatening harm.
Let not the thought of private care

Unnerve a nation's arm !

For sternly must the soldier fight

Whose country stakes her all ;
Now is the day when England's might

Must conquer, w must fall ;
Though Valor unrewarded die

Nor every field be won.
We'll bate no Jot of courage high

Before our taak be done.

POKMK AND SONGS

Souls of our be»t ! whoae bodies fill

Their unforgottcn grave
By Magersfonteia'B murderous hill

Or darlt Tosete's wave.
Nobly ye strove, ye gallant dead,

For England's honor slain !
'Tls ours to prove the blood ye shed

Has not been shed in vain !

A. D. Godley. The Spectator, London.

THE NAMES OF THE DEAD.
The following poem Is by W. A. Fraser. the Author of ■ The Eye
NoJt^."^*'"''"'"^"*'"*'*" *°'1««^««'«^ "The Canadian

We're Irish: they said ^ed no: ilght
For the Queen. Was that right .'
Ask for the names of the women who cried
For the heroes who charged to the cannon and died.
Go ask for the names of the dead.

Our brothers are dead In the Transvaal ;
English and Scotchmen— and is that all
Who died that the whole world might know
That watered by blood the Empire would grow ?
Go ask for the names ot the dead.

We've drunk to the Queen— Ctod blees her !
We've fought with the Boers— who curs'd hw '
And we're Britons ! Were true to the flag :
When the ttghUng was on did one of us lag ?
Oo ask for the names of the dead.

English, and Scotchmen, and Irish— all Britons yet •
When WE fall, there'll be rooms In the Empire to Irt-

71 **t!*.r°°*'" ''^ "® poor-God knows, but well' wait;
Like Fusiliers, not traitors, we'll flght against fa**,
Go look at the names of the dead.

it it

OXTOK SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

wtll ffl'"'" '"* "''"^ °' ">* "««or«l dead-
iT. he,": Moo's '''/"""'^ '"''^ ''^'"•^ ''^ --«=

(^ pray for the souls of the dead.

»1

MILES REGINAE.

In the nJght. and In the rain, in his life-blood Iyl„,
Lonely, ^ and weak with pain, a motherX'^X^.

No one by to hold his hand, pillowed on a stone
In the far-off Kaffir land, a hero dl«, alone.

Not a whispered word of love: not a tear l« th-r
Not a friend to point above, or reii^t a^er ^

ZrliT !'''"'• '•'* '"'*"' ''^' ^'"^ »"« barren «lod
For him. too. waa crudfled the Spotless Son of (C.'

Ere the mists of death desoond aro ht

Old. fa»liiar faces bl'rirover\,I''" '^"" ""•

Home and Mother fill his dream, lovingly caressed
By her gentle touch, he seems quietly to r«t

pL't'irort^'"" '*' "'*"'■ •"'•"'"' "^ *^« «--.

Planting on the conquered height Brluin's flag, ar^ seen.

Chaa. s. Edwards. Cumberland, Ont,

• WAR THE ONLY THING THAT HAS NO GOOD IN IT r

They say that ' war Li hirii - t»,^ •
^ The sm ImposJ^ t ^"^ior^v^n-"*' "^""^ '
Yet I can look beyond It at Its woi»t
And still And blue in Heaven.

POEMS AND SONGS

lit

And as I note bow nobly natures form
I'nder the war's red lein, I deem it true

Tbat He who made tbe earthquake and the storm
Perchance makes battles too !

The life He loves is not the life of span

Abbreviated by each passing breath.
It is the true humanity of Man,

Victorious over death.

TIm long expectance of the upward gaze

Sense ineradicable of things afar.
Fair hop^ of finding after many days

The Bright and Morning Star.

Methinks I see how spirits may be tried.

Transfigured into beauty on war's verge.
UkB flowers, whose tremulous grace is learnt beside

The trampling of tbe ^urge.

And now. not only Englishmen at need

Have won a fiery and unequal fray.
— No infantry has ever done such deed

Since Albuera's day ! *

Those who live on amid our homes to dwell
Have grasped the higher lessons that endure,

— The gallant Private learns to practice veil
His heroism obscure.

iis heart beats high as one for whom is made

A mighty music solemnly, what time
The oratorio of the cannonade
Roils through the hills sublime.

Yet his the dangerous posu that tew can mark.
The crimson death, the dread unerring aim.

The fatal ball that whizzes through the dark.
The just-recorded name —

The faithful following of the flag all day.

The duty done that brings no nation's thanks.

The ' Ama Neeciri ' of some grim and grey
A Kempis of the ranks.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

The«« are the things our commonweal to guard.
The patient etrength that Is too proud to preM

The duty done for duty, not reward,
The lofty litUraeM.

And they of greater sUte who never turned.
Taking their path of duty high aii,i higher

What 'o we deem that they, too, may bare leiinu»d
In that baptismal Are ?

Not that, the only end beneath the sua

Is to make every sea a trading lake.
And all our splendid English blatory one

Voluminous mistake.

They who marched up the bluffs last stormy week
Some of them, ere they reached the mounUins crown

The Wind of ba«Je breathing on their cheek
Suddenly laid them down.

Like sleepers-not like those whose race is run-
Fa»t. fast asleep amid the cannon's roar,

Th«m no reveille and no morning gun
Shall ever waken more.

And the boy-beauty passed from off the face

Of those who llwed, and Into it instead
Came proud forgetfulnees of ball and race

Sweet commune with the dead.

And thoughts beyond their thoughu the Spirit lent
And manly tears made mist upon their eyes

And to them came a great preaentlment
Of high self-sacrlflce.

Thus as the heaven's many-colored flames

At sunset are but dust in rich disguise
The ascending earthquake dust of batUe frames

Ood's pictures In the skies.

William Armagh. Palace. Armagh. Ireland.

POEM8 AND SONGS

WBBP YE, O MOTHERS OF BRITAIN.

Wmp re, O motlMni of Britain,

For chlldrMi that wer«, but u« not;
Wmp ye, mothera of Britain;

With torrow your portion li fraught;
For of theee U an Empire bullded —

Of trayall, and angulib and grief;
And the tlmee of your weeping aball not be few.

Nor the space of your mourning brief.

y^eep ye, O mothers of Britain;

Ye have wept full olt before.
Weep ye, O mothen of Britain;

Full oft ehall your hearts be sore;
For tbls the decree, the decree at a Ood,

On the Empire'! natal mom —
" Ye Bhall bring ot your fruits In the time of her need.

Ye Bhall bring her the cherished flrst bom."

1
Weep ye, O uothers ot Britain; ,

Yea, weep to an Empire's gain.
Weep ye, O mothers of Britain ;

Youra be the burden of pain ;
And the mirth shall go out of your hearts for aye,

The light shall go out of your eyes ;
And black will be your festal robes

On the day of that sacrifice.

Alexander Martin.

SUNT LACRYMAE REKUM.

Happy, thrice hiu>py, are the brave, who, dying,
Upheld our England's hfMiour In the South ;

They, doing, daring, odds and death defying,
Shall live from mouth to mouth.

Many a heart is heavy this Dec«mbw,

Out <m th> Veldt, and in our Northmm Isle,

For It Is hard to live and to remember,
A last far«v'4ii and smile.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Many are goM. Ah, nw, the w«ll-loT«d tacM
Grow few and fewer with the dying year !

Othere may come, but none will flu their places.
No, none can be aa dear.

John Jervls Bereaford, Londou.

SONS OP BRITAIN.

What do they win who flght for Britain'* glory
In the wild lightning of a fearful night ?

la It for triumph sung in aong or atory.

That •• Sona of Britain " may be writ in light?

They win a aoldier'a death— they die for Duty— "
Nor her alone, for Truth hath clasped her hand •

They seek not wealth to gain, nor fame, nor booty.
But abed their blood for love of Motheriand.

What la this death Britannlae aona are dying ?

la It vain atrivlng for aome bitter end ?
The heartha forgot where wivea and mother, orying

With wlldevt prayera the height of heaven rend.

Nay ! Nay ! the end la glory for old BriUln,
Who— after Ood— in loyal hearts atanda flrat ;

And victory In every death la written

To ahow each mother what her love hath nurwd.

How hold they hope when other naUona periah ?

Ood moves his hand, and storms and battles cease :
This la the calm in time of death they cherlah.

When, wars o'erpast. He smiles as Ood of Peace.

Amy Klngaland Pennington, Halifax.

OUR TESTAMENT,

Why Is it that ye grieve, ok, weak In faith

Who turn toward. High Heaven upbraiding eyes'
Think ye that God win count your chlWreu s deai
Vain sacrifice ?

POEMS ANT> eONOS

Half mast your flaga ? Nay. fly ttaam at tha head !
We reap the hanreat whare w« aowed the com ;
Bee from the red graves of your gallant dead
An Empire bom.

Do ye not know, ye cannot cure a flaw,

Unless the steel runs molten red again ;
That mere men's words cannot together draw
Those who were twain ?

Do ye not see the Anglo-Saxon breed

Orow leas than kin on every continent ;
That brothers had forgotten in their greed
What " brother " meant ?

Do ye not hear from all the humming wires,

Which bind the mother to each colony.
How He worka aurely for our beat dMirea
To weld the free —

With blood of freeman into one grand Whole,

To open all the gates of ill the Earth 7
Do ye not see, your Greater Britain's soul
Haa come to birth ?

Do ye not hear above the shrieks— the song

Prom all those outland hearts which peace kept dumb;
" There is no fight too fierce, no trail too long.
When Lovef criea. Come."

Can ye beat steel from iron in the sun ;

Or crown Earth's master on a bloodless field ?
As Abram offered to his Gk>d— his son.
Our best we yield.

And Ood gives answer. In the battle smoke ;

Tried in war's crucible, washed white in tears.
The Saxon heart of Greater Britain woke
One for all years.

Lift up your eyes. Your glory is revealed,

See through ^ ar's clouds the rising of your Sun !
Hear ye Ood's voice. Your testament is sealed.
And be ye one.

Clive Phiilipp Wolley, Victoria. B.C.

ox TIIK fSOlTIi AF KUAX WAH.

THE LINK OP LOYALTY.

Oh. florioui lltu. liiand. Mirroundwl by the wn

Our heart, ar. hot within u.. „d b«iUn« .trong'for th-,

The clarion Mund of battle I. ringing In our •«,

And all our blood 1. Ungling, our throeu are ho.r.3 with ch

We're on the eve. they tell ui. of being Uught "our place •'

AH nation. Jealou. rancor, and mlghUly arrayed ;
But. thank the God who made ua. no Briton it afnUd.

Srjr^.n"",? "•* ^"""^ ''''•" »"• U"'"" J^k iloata high
aw wna Will rally round her to gladly light and die.

And fWUng with our face, turned toward, our country, foe

Wall pray for luck-the ««eold pluck will fll, our piLi. »; know.

Tlw bulldog that 1. In u.. though dormant many a year

Ha. blood In hi. eye to do or die. and a heart that know, no (Mr

Let Brum growl and the Oaulol. continue loud to crow

We're been there before, both on nea and .hore. a handful before

^"' to b^' '°°^ '""• ''• •" '" "*" '""• *''°"«»' »°* "»• «>"

We are ready to fight for our country and our Queen.

For land, and the Queen we revere, though to many never wn.

^' rng^mc^' '*"' '"■'"""°"' °' """• *'*•' '*" '•'* O'** country

From^the Arctic .hore. of the Yukon to the depth of the Torrid
WWerer we are. however far. we are British; Fibre and bon.

JheTeiiLj'i; S T ?^ '"*':"' '"^= •^•- '"^^ ^ ^° "« «»•".
A„J Tr ^ ° ''*"' "P**""^ ^^ B°>P«re« Kloriou. name

And tjar. may be .hed for the valiant dead, but never a Sr for

'-k: V. 1

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Roch«8ttr, N«w Yofk 14609 USA
(716) 482 - 0300 - Phoiw
(716) ZtB - 5989 - Fo.

POEMS AND SONGS

We have lived at erae, and gone as we pleaae, with our pruning

hook and plough ;
But let them beware, who rouse from his lair, the British Lion now.

E. L. K., Winnipeg, Man.

A SONG IN CAMP
Of the Sons of the Empire as They Lay in Camp on the Veldt.

There's one can tell of the grizzly bear,

And one of the kangaroo,
Over the borders we've come with our orders,

We know what we're here to do ;
For we all of us live In the same big house.

Though each has his own little wing.
And when obstinate nations attack the foundations

We all come together and sing :

For England, for England, the cradle of "our line.

The lances jlde and the rifles ring and the scattered

sons combine ; '

For England, for England. We fling our strength

between

The Empire and the Danger, for our England and the
Queen.

There's some that come from a Melbourne shop,

Some that were bred In Quebec,
Some from a prairie, and some from a dairy.

And some from the Terrlble's deck ;
And some of us marched from the counter of Coutts,

And some from a constable's beat,
But we're all thrown together In khaki and leather—

We sing the same song when we meet :

For England, for England, the cradle of our line.

The lances ride and the rifles ring and the scattered

sons combine ;
For England, for England. We fling our strength

between

The Empire and the Danger, for our England and the
Queen.

ox THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

And when we've done what we're here to do.

And the ships go east and west,
Each with his story of hardships and glory—

And little brown holes in his chest,
We shall tnink o' the nights when we smolced our clays

And lay on our backs in a ring,
Weary-worn after battle, but making a rattle

With the song that was easy to sing :

For England, for England, the cradle of our line
The lances ride and the rifles ring and the scattered
sons combine ;

For England, for England. We fling our strength
between

The Empire and the Danger, for our England and the
Queen.

Harold Bigbie.

SONG-OF THE CANADIAN LEGION.

From the oldest of our cities

From her ramparts worn and gray.
Proudly we beheld a thousand

Of our comrades sail away,
When they heard the voices calling

Of their kinsmen o'er the sea,
" Lend a hand, O brother Britons,

For a Briton's liberty ! "

Chorus —

Mother England we are going

Where our comrades went before,
For we hear the bugles blowing,

Hark ! they summon thousands more.
Where the old red flag is flying
O er the dead and o'er the dying-
Foes of freedom still defying

As it did in days of yore !

At the rumor of disaster.

At the tidings of retreat.
At the cry of fallen cities

And the clamor of defeat.

'^ -•!

I 4 i
' If

1\)EMS A.\I> !So\(;s

Brief the prayer we made to Heaven

For the heroes that were gone
Then' from sea to sea we anewer'd

" Send another legion on !"
Chorus —

Mother England if you need us
That is all we care to know,
Onward into battle lead us

Where the foremost bugles blow •
Onward «rhere the shells are crashing
^V here the rifle Are Is flashing.
And the bayonets are dashing
O'er the trenches of the foe '
Let the skies above grow darker !

Let there com« a sterner fate '
Let the menace of the nations

Break in flame of savage hate '
From the hear^ of all our women

From the rifles of our men,
For the honor of the Empire

Loud shall ring o,.r answer then :
Chorus —

Mother England we are ready

As our comrades were before
We are true and we are steady, '

We are Britons to the core :
Give the signal and we'll sally
Forth from every hill and valley
Round the old red flag to rally
Full a hundred thousand more »

Hon. T. R. E. Mclnnes. Victoria. B.C.

THE WAR'S RESULT.
The conflict on the Afrlc shore

Has cast a wondrous light
Upon the Mother Land and sons.

To make them well unite.
So land to land, and heart to heart

The Empire stands supreme,
Presenting golden fact, instead

Of but a splendid dream.

Antigua W.T.L Standard.

<'\ THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

THE CONTINGENTS FAREWELL.

By the martial voice that calls us

Far beyond the sea.
By the patrioUe eplrlt
That pleads for unity ;
Canada ! we stand for thee.

By the loyal thoughts that bind us
To our comrades o'er the sea.

By the cause that calls for freedom,
Justice, right and liberty ;

Canada ! we stand for thee.

By tne Ues of love that hold us

To this land so free.
By the hearts that would be with us,

In death and victory ;
Canada ! we stand for thee.

By the Empire's great dominion

Over land and sea.
By the throne we love and cherish.

All hail ! our loyalty ;
Canada ! we stand for thee.

For our Empire all united,

Girt by .many a sea.
Oh God of Battles hear our cry,

Give us the victory ;
Canada ! we stand for thee.

T. W. R. Templeton, Quebec.

A SOLDIER'S WIFE.

Dead, he is dead, but dead on the field.
Dead with his face to the foe ;

Nor pity, nor sorrow, full comfort to me.
He died with his face to the foe.

I ='

POKMS AM) SONGS

Loved arms that enfolded my life, till It lay
And throbbed passion full on his breaat ■

Oh, husband, my soldier, who valiantly pMt
Through strife to a glorious rest.

This fear blanchen brow, these quivering lips

Mine, his, who forever is still ;
Oh husband, my soldier, oh, voice that no more,

Shall all my weak woman heart thrill.

In the beauty of manhood, the strength of his grace

He went, I shall see him no more ;
Oh, husband, my heart is athirst for thy face

Life lies desert, ablazlng before.

Dead, aye, but in battle, struck down on the field

Oh. weep not, or pity my pain ;
Like a soldier he perished, and on me bestowed

A priceless inheritance then.

Where the roar of the bktle, a* thunder is loud
He perished, unshrinkingly brave ■

^ A^nH !^ 'f '^''™'^«' ^''^ clamorous', maddeningly crowd.
And the charge rushes on like tbe wave.

The wife of a soldier, and sprung from a line.
Of soldiers, from son unto son

That his rest he has valiantly won.

Aye, he is dead ; L-it h^ died on the field

He is dead with nis face to the f oe • '
Oh weep not. nor pity, full comfort to me.

He died with his face to the foe.

T. Redcam. Kingston, Jamaica, W.LI.

GORDONS TO THE FRONT.

Written on the Occ^ion of the 1st Battalion Gordon Highlanders
Leaving for the Transvaal.
Ho ! Ro ! for the Tartan,

And the skirl o' the Piob mhor!
The Gordons are off to the front, lad«.
To fight on a foreign shore.

ox THK sorm afkkan w.vh.

The voice of our country cslls us,
And we go with a right good will,

For they need some bold cliff-climber8(
And the Gordon fills the bill !

So it's Ho ! Ro ! for the tartan.
And the skirl o' the Piob mhor I

The Gorlons are off to the front, lads.
To tackle the crafty Boer !

Men from the braes of Huntly—

Lads from the straths of Spey—
O dinna ye hear the slogan ?

It's belt your plaids and away ! ^

They tell us to dolT the tartan,

'Tis a mark for the foeman'i gun,
But we'll wear it to show who's coming.

And they'll know that the field's half won !

So it's Ho ! Ro ! for the Urtan,
And the skirl o' the Piob mhor !

There'll be fire In the Dutchman's heather
When the Gordon geta ashore !

There's a dark hill nam'd Majuba
Out there 'neath the burning skiee.

And many a kilted comrade
On its arid kopje Hee.

They peppered them fw>m their coverts
As they lay like flsh In a creel,

And the poor lads couldn't get at them

To give tlhem the Highland steel !

So It's Ho ! Ro ! for the tartan,
And the skirl o' the Piob mhor !

There'll be wind in another quarter
When the Gordon geta ashore !

For Donald has told young Flora
As he left the weeing maid.

That he wants no lover's kisses
Till the clan's Just debts are j)ald.

III'

I*OKMS AND S()N(iH

And the trembling wive* on Deeside
May gaze till their eyes are Bore,

For well eettla that old account, lada,
Or they'll gee us bock no more.

So Its Ho ! Ro ! for the tartan,
And the skirl o' the Plob mhor !

We'll settle that old account, lads,
Or ever we leave their shore !

Robert Reld.

it*

OLENCOE.

There is joy to-day In England—

There's rejoicing in England to-day—
And the hearts of the' people are swelling with pride

For the boys who have marched away;—
For the boys, the lion-hearted.

Who feared nor death nor foe.
And who planted the banner of England's might

On the bloody heights of Olencoe.

There's sorrow to-day in England,

There is weeping in England to-day,
And the hearta of the mothers are breaking with grief

For the boye who have marched away;—
For the boys, the tender-hearted,

Who feared nor death nor foe.
And who sleep where the banner of England wares

On the bloody heights of Glencoe.

1 here's weeping to-day in England—

There's rejoicing in England to-day
And the nation is thrilled with sound of the drum

For the boys who are marching away;
For the boys, as lion-hearted—

Who fear nor death nor foe—
As they who the banner of England placed

On the bloody heights of Glencoe.

Anon.

ON THESOITII AFlJkVN WAK.

!»'>

THE BAiTLE OF (JI.KNCOE.

" One of the Royal Irish Kuslllei-s Who Fell at the
Battle of Glencoe."

They gave him a doublet of scarlet.
And a rifle to hold In his hand,

And they bade to strike for his Sovereign.
And flght for his loved, native land.

They came— and they listed my darling ;

And the Mother of Sorrows above
Can feel for the heart of a mother.

For she knows how the Irish can love.

ThP challenge of England has summoned

Her sister, the Emerald Isle.
And brothers-ln-arms are their children

Now mustering file upon file.

They gave me the paper that told It,
And I read with my tear-dlmmed sight.

While It spoke of the glory of battle
And told how the Irish can flght

But the voice of the bugle that called him,
And the song oC the slumbering deep.

Have stilled the young heart In his bosom
And hushed my poor darling to sleep.

He is there— in Uie list of the slaughtered ;

But they tell me, thatl Pmuan't cry.
For he fell, where the battle waa thickest.

To prove how the Irish can die.

RuasBll Gray, " Dublin Warder.'

»l i

■11 m

l-OKMS AND KOX(J.S

A TRIBUTE TO GENERAL 8YMON8.
October 20th, 1899-May 15th, 1900.

First of the fallen, unrestful ha*t thou Iain
will ?J"""'"^ southwards from thy captive bed •
Hearst thou yon shout ?--tls England come again
To plant her flag, triumphant, oer thy head.

Anon.

■i » '^m t :

" OLENCOE."

Here's to you Uncle Kruger ! slalnte ! an' slainte go leor -

For youreelf an'' your fanner sojers gave ua a d good light

When the song of the bugle woke me, ringln' across G^eLe •
That tould us the big brown fellows were sendin' us do^n their love.

T;.ra?hri^tr::ir iH^to ^-^ ^r'

Along What they call the kopje, the" to me it looked more like a hill.

^s^^ ^ ' '*"' morning-iika you haven't beheld for

'■""MaSlor" ^^^ "^ ----- "- - ^t your
If the Dutch is a. willin' ae we are, you nev« spoke truer word !"

ON THE SOl'TH AFRICAN WAH.

)»7

for . «.„ ,„„., cir.T. inr; sr ■".': '• "•"

was gone, sireicner, an I knew the poor boy

When I spoke to the ambulance doctor, an' he nodded «„• th

pa«8et1 on. noaoed an then

' *® ""St halt for a moment

^•Steady there!" cried the captain,
here,"

^"we^r;::l^.rd::ro?Se rr^^ ^"' «'~- -• ^'-.

Wa.Un- the Capta.nrrrrrr^.t^VaTeaTh. "'" '' '-'''

ZTzT. T.^zzrz^::sr' -^^ ^° ^ -° '*« --

It's the mist Of Benbow rm sJ^Lg *"?^r ""T ''" "^-

^^ m seeing , an the rock that we'll capture

Is the rock Whore I shot the eagle, when I was a smaU gossoon.

" Patrick VS »?."'.?"''■ ^°' ""'^^ ""^ P«"- -ot^er say ■
ToZ th:;^ J-,l^,i^^^^^^^^^ not gom. away

If your sire was a ConTught 'r^L °^ "^ '"^ '^^^ «^'^"'^-

belong ? ^°°°'^"«''t R*^r. sure where would his son

Hark ! ^whl^M ! do you hear the musl. comln' up from the camp
Knowln- there's wa.t.n' to hear It. UnT Z w7h ear.

n>KMS AM) .•«>X(i.s

ill
III

I SI

Augh ! Oarrynwen ! you're the Jewel ! an' we cuarged on the

Diitclinian'a Kuna,
An" covert-d th« li'o(;ily kopje, like a Galway gr«>y-hound 'un*.
At the top of the hill they met us, with (aces all set and grim ;
Uut they (ouMn't take the bayonet— thnfa the trouble with most

of thim ;

So, of courBP. they'll be pralsln' the RoyaU. an' the men of the

Fuslllcrii,
An" the nownpiiperg help to dry up the widows an" orph&n'i teari,
An' they'll write a n'>w name on the colours— that Is If there's room

for more ;
An' we'll follow thlm thro' the battle, the same as we've done

before !

Hut here's to yoti I'ncle Kruger ! slalnte ! an' slalnte go leor !
After all you're a dacint Christian, never mind If you are a Boer !
So with heart an' half ma bourhal, we'll drink to your health

to-night.
For yourself an' your brown fa^ed Dutchmen gave u« a d good

flght !

Dr. William Henry Drummond, Montreal

=:# f

THE BATTLE.

The heavens resound with the thunder

That rolls from a hundred guns.
And the earth is riven asunder

By the missUefl of Titan's sons.
The walls are falling In patches.

That hid the Invisible foe,
And the bodies of Boers in batches

Are laid on the green sward low.

Their cannon one after another,
Cease to belch and bellow and roar,

And the shells that rend and smother

Come seldomer than before.

Each Briton his weapon clenches.
He will hammer with all his might,

Tliey have set them to clear the trenches
Ere the sun goes 1own to-night.

ON THE 80UTII AFRICAN WAR.

Far down by the aide or the river.

Our brave ones have gone at a run.
While our howitzer, traah and quiver,

And bellows each naval gun.
They enter the brim of the water.

And croM to the further aide ;
They fear not. nor swerve, nor falter.

This death-dealing human tide.

But they have not escaped the foeman.

The waters are tinged with blood
From a hundred wounds. Yet no man

Is daunted-they dash through the flood.
Their numbers each moment Increasing.

They scatter, and creep, and crawl
While the mausers " zip. Up,-, Ui u^c«wlng

And •• boom •• flies the cannon ball.

They are darting from shelter to shelter.

Getting nearer and nearer the foe •
In the glare of the sun they swelter. '

All eager fo strike the blow.
Each bayon-t now outflashes.

As they reach the foot of the height
While a volley of bulleu crashes ' .

Around, almost darkening sight.

With a flend-llke yelling and cheering

They charge up the heights at a run •
Orlm men are they all and unfearlng.

They'll finish what they have begun
The voor tnekkers dash from their ditches

And fly as the chafj from the wind
Nor dare they, /or jGolconda's, riche^

To look for a moment behind.

The cavalry dash in and rouf them

They trample them down to the wth
With sword and with lance lay about them ;

Of slaughter there Is no dearth.
The victors now buoyant with gladness

Will rest from the bloody strife •
But their Joy will be mingled with 'sadneae

As they think cf the cost In life.

100

POEMS AND SONGS

The kopjes are strewn with the dying.

Intermixed with the wounded and dead,
And the debris of war is lying

On the heights all comage-red.
And the piercing shrieks of the gory,

As they lie in their blood and pain.
Shed a lurid light on the glory

That battle has given again.

There are maidens that mourn, their lovers,

There are mothers that mourn their sons.
The spectre of hunger hovers

O'er the widowed and orphan'd ones.
Not alone on the field of battle

Is the torture and agony borne ; '

Far away from the cannon's rattle.

The hearts of the loving are torn.

May God speed the day of the ending

Of war, with its (gashing of arms ;
May peace from the heavens down-bending

Replace all its cruel alarms.
Speed the day, when hateful oppression

Shall yield to the Breath from above.
When men shall give truest expression

To themselves, in brotherly love.

Revd. Andrew MacNab, Walton, Ont.

THE VICTORY.

Out rang the bugle loud and shrill,
Reverberating from the hlH,

That towered up bleak and bare ;
Hurling deftanoe to the foe.
Who in the trenches lay full low, *

With unremitting care.
" To arms ! to arms !" the cry went round,
And countless numbers at the sound,

Their weapons seized and primed ;
Disposed themselves, each for the fray.
In all the forms of war's array.
Glad that at last had come the day,

With which their longings chimed.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

101

The cannon, with their deep-tongued bay,
Begin the havoc of the day,

And seldom miss the mark.
The maxims' swift repeaUng crack,
A single moment do not slack.

While creusota belch, and bark.
And here and there the volleys fly.
Rending th« air, with zip, and sigh,'

And dealing wounds and death.
Hour after hour the battle ra:,ed.
In long) extended lines engaged.
Nor were the carnage fiends assuaged,
While one might draw his breath.

Still undecided is the fight.
While the foreshadowlngs of night

Are hastening on apaoe.
Though worn with war's grim, gory work.
No man of all his share will shirk :

No slackening can you trace.
At length our horsemen, rank on rank
Appear upon the foemen's flank,

Extended far and near.
They charge with heaven-rending yell
As If from out the Jaws of hell.
The foemen turn and flee pell mell,
In panic-stricken fear.

The centre weakens. " Gordons charge,
Ae In the days of sword and targe.

Resistless in your might"
they charge. The centre breaks and flees.
Uke chaff before a steady breeae,

Or darkness before light.
The right, the left, the centre flee
One long-extended wild melee.

At every point hard pressed.

The darkness closes on the fray[

Hiding the carnage of the day '

The vanquished keepln« on thrtr way.

To Northward and to West

R«vd. Andrew M&cNab.

102

POEMS AN.L SONGS

'TWAS AN IRISH FIGHT.

How the Bngliah fought the Dutch at the Battle of Dundee.

On the mountain side the battle raged, there was no stop or atay ;
Machin captured Private Burke and Eneign Michael Shea,
Fitzgerald got Fitzpatrlck, Brannlgan found O'Rourke ;
Finnigan took a man named Fay — and a couple of lads from Cork.
Sudden they heard McManua shout : " Hands up or I'll run you

through."
He thought he had a Yorkshire " Tyke," — 'twas Corporal

Donoghue !
McOarry took O'Leary, O'Brien got McNamee,
That's how the "English fought the Dutch" at the Battle of

Dundee.

Then someone broughi in Casey, O'Connor took O'Neil ;

Riley captured Cavanagh, while trying to make a steal.

Hogan caught McFadden, Corrlgan caught McBrlde,

And Brennan made a handsome touch when Kelly tried to slide.

Dicey took a lad named Welsh ; Dooley got McOurk ;

Gi;iigan turned in Fahey's boy— for his father he used to work.

They bad marched to fight the English— but Irish were all they

could see —
That's how the "English fought the Dutch" at the Battle of

Dundee.

Anon.

THE PEACEMAKER.

Two floldlera, lying as they fell upon the reddened clay-
In daytime foes ; at night, in peace— breathing their Uvea away.
Brave heart had atirred each manly breast ; fate only made them

foes.
And lying, dying, side by side, a softened feeling rose.

'Our time is short,' one faint voice said; 'to-day we've done our

best
On different sides. \Khat matters &ow ? To-morrow we're at rest
Life lies behind ; I might not care for only my own sake.
But far away are other hearts that this day's work will break.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

103

Among old Hampehlres pleasant field* there pray for me to-night
A woman and a little girl with hair like golden light '-

Thft w„?M "'?*''' """'* '"'■''' "' '^' '"^ "y »' ''°R"«*h wild
That would no longer be repressed-' Oh. God ! my wife and child!'

'And.' said the other dying man. 'across the s^ndy plain
T ,m, "**. . "°^ ^"^^ '"^ ""^ '°^^'' °°« I" °«^«r see again.

•?h« ^'..^ ''"'' '"'- "'*^* «^~ ^'^'^ '^^'^ ^-'^ at the door :
The fathers step, the father's kiss, will never meet her more.'

'ZT^^J^^r^l'T^ "*''"'■'' "^"^ = ^^'''^ '«^«'« a" that now.
For soon before God's mercy-seat top;,h€r we shall bow

And. right or wrong, the morning sun will find us dead, the same.'

It f''?* "'!f."'* ''"'*°° '"^**'"' *•»« ^y'°8 hands entwine ;

III ,?H "^ . *!' v^** *'''*' *" '*'* ***" '~" h«a^e° Bhlne.
The tittle g rl with golden hair, and one with dark ey« bright

On Hampshire's fields and sandy plain were fatherleee that night.

Lue Vernon. " Leslie's Weekly."

BUGLER DUNN.

Ind ^toTJT f T'f .*°''"*^ '"« '^ ^' '""^ ^»»'°« «' the sun.
And forth at the from of the BrlUsh host marched the brave boy-
bugler Dunn.

They strove to curb his young folly, they sought to shield him from
harm.

But he scornfully ca^ off the hands that would restrain his arm
No. BO. he must n:;xrch with the foremost, in the frxmt of the

cannon's breath—
There wa« not a soul In the firing lin« that was less afraid of death
And. couJd^ blaone him. who. tho' a boy. yet had In his youtWuJ

And Who felt In Lis v«lns a tide of valor as strongly bum and flow
As that^whij,h stirs the depths of a man when' he clTncLs "71;

sun. onward in front of the host he kept. «id still to his taak was

104

POEMS AND SONGS

For evw his bugle with pride and strength unabatlngly he blew,
Tin— what an honor !— a screeching shot from a sudden awakening

hell,
Shattered the arm of the bugler-boy and down on his bugle he fell ;
He fell— the first In that fearful flght, but his soul shrank not with

the pain :
' Thank God,' he said, 'I've still my left arm, I can hold my bugle

again.'
Then up and away to the front he flew; blowing lustily as he sped.
Till he felt bis strength fast melting away, and a fever binding his

head.
And down, at last, on the sun-scorched sands, he sank, and swooned

away.
And when he awoke— it seemed like a dream- behold, he calmly lay
Bed-bound In an Englteh hospital, afar from the war-shaken land.
And Royalty bending over his bed, and holding hlsi, slender Iband :
' Now speak, my brave boy, what would you have your Sovereign

do for you ?'
A sweet smile played on his pallW lips and lit up his eyes of blue :
' I hope,' he replied, in the strain that showed the true soul of his

race,
' That my Queen may send me back again to the front to take my

place.'
Then silence fell on his lips for a space, but his mind was athrob

with thought ;
At last: ' I'm to have th.ee bars,' he said, 'for In three fields I have

fought ;
A medal and three bars ; Ha, ha ! My father will have but two.
And, perhaps, I shall win a fourth, and a fifth, before this war shall

be thro' ! '
Oh. It was by strength oC soul, like thlsjthat our name and fame

were won;
And by hearts like the heart which fills the breast of this brave boy-
bugler Dunn.

J. C. M. Duncan.

THE FLAG UNFURLED.

The word is past ; the trumpet blast
Has thrilled the soul of a listening world.
O'er field and fort, o'er camp and court.
Old England's banner flies unfurled.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAP.

106

Beneath its fold, where heroes bold
For England's name have gladly bled.
Thousands of men sUnd firm as then.
As brave as e'er to death were led.

With frowning brow, unflinching now.
The nation peals the order shrill ; •

The peace we prayed has been gainsaid,
Rouse, then ; " old England's England still."

Brave hearts pour forth from south and north.
From east and west, thj wide world round.
And flags are raised and trumpets blazed.
Where'er an English heart is found.

' Firmly we stand for the mother land.
And lay on the altar our proudest sons,
Where the old flag leads to noble deeds,
Behind or before the storm of the guns.'

Godspeed ! Godspeed !' Though fond hearts bleed,
Keep a smiling face, let a cheer ring clear ;
* Through the shadows deep, our God will keep.
Be a soldier of Britain ; never fear ! '

Fond hearts may break ; 'tis for England's sake,
O widowed bride ! O childless wife !
In war's wild flood they shed their blood.
England forever ! What is life ?

Fierce rages the fight on Glencoe's height.
Where face to face brave foemen stand ;
But England's sons, man England's guns.
Beneath the flag of their own loved land.

Wherever they be, on land or sea,

Stand flrm to the death the ' Thin Red Line,'

Nor ever yield the sword they wield,

Till forever swept from the shores of time.

For freedom's rights, old England fights.
And as ever of old, the foe she sweeps
From hill and plain, though a crimson stain
Markc the bed where many a soldier sleeps.

106

POEMS AND SONGS

In war's swift Ude. like a man he died.
He swept with a cheer through the gates of death
To the reahna of day. 'Tls the English way,
And to England he gave his latest breath.

•

^ Over his tomb let an orange tree bloom,
And carve on his headstone a broken heart,
For war took the life of his sweet glrl-wlfe.
And a mother laid low with its poisoned dart.

An old man sUnds with trembling hands
Beside the mounda where hla dear ones lay.
Burning the skies with his tearless eyes.
And a heart too full of grief to pray.

Oh, soldier, say ! can war repay

One- half of the Joys it steals from life ?

Is the splendor of court or the life of the fort

Worth the hearts that fere broken after the strife ?

O Prince of Peace ! That war may cease.

And the blood-stained flag be forever furled !

That natlona all at Thy feet may fall.

And brotherhood's banner stream over the world !

Aaa Ferry, Brandon, Man.

THE OLD FLAG.
Written After Splon Kop Disaster.

Lead on, thou glorioua emblem of the free.

Lift high thy duBtless folds upon the morn.
The breezes seek companionship with thee.

As thou art free on their free wings art borne.
Where e'er the free-born blast of freedom blows

There, proud, thy mighty folds of freedom wave
•Mid Greenland's night or Afrlc's morning glows.

All shattered are the irons of the slave.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

107

Lead on. nor shall blood-stained Magersfonteln,

Nor yonder eteel-swept hlll-creet check the wave ;
That line ol steel up scales the bloody mountain

To And a lurking foeman or a grave.
Lead on, we wait not for the trumpets pea!.

The lion's whelps know but one bugle call,
Which brings them to the foe with claws of steel,

The echoes dread of that terrific growl.

Lead on, against a foe invisible.

And if we cannot find him we can die ;
We follow thee with thrill unspeakable.

Devotion flashing In each Briton's eye ;
Lead on, the Gospel Heralds say " Amen,"

Colonial voices echo to a man ;
Each enterprise for human rights again

Proclaims, that mighty England leads the van.

Lead on, proud pennon, proof 'gainst sword and ball.

Thy texture wipes the tribesman's tears away ;
Beneath thy folds the slave can never fall.

And where thou wavest is perennia} day ;
Beyond the Vaal the foul oppressor's chain

Stained by the blood and tears of brother men.
Calls loud for Britain's mighty hand again.

Again the sword is mightier than the pen. '

Lead on, battalions surge where thou dost wave.

And, dying, glance again and bless thy folds,
A shroud more glorious, nation never gave.

The soldier still, in death, his glory holds ;
Hug© is the reservoir of British blood.

Streams there inflow from empires far away.
Bid all the streams he rivers In their 2ood ;

Trampling the nations mustering for the fray.

Lead en, all glorious emblem of the free,

While Britain bows to kiss the chastening rod.
Behind thy combined fleets upon the sea

Grasp, as of y->Te. the mighty hand of God ;
The burning language of thy guns is clear,

A braver host, this planet, never trod.
Thy righteous sword the jealous nations fear.

Great Britain ; lean for greatness on thy God.

nenrd. G. E. Roea

108

POEMS AND SONGS

AFTER THE BATTLE OP SPION KOP.

The carnage ceeaed, which fierce had raced all day
Thick shades stooped down to pall the hideous slaht

Some fifteen hundred dead or dying lay,

And ceaseless crle« of anguUb rent the night.

A Red Cross lantern hoisted on the height.

Guarding the only exit from the hill.
Glared sickly as though staggered at the sight—

And such dire need of mltlgatlve skill.

Full many a one, shot In the trench at m<MTi,
Unataunched his wounds. In heat of blistering sun

Was to the Red Cross now by comrades borne.
Life ebbing low— the la«t rands almost run.

In quick succession stretchers laden poured,
The long procession blocked the narrow pass ;

When tented space we could no more afford,
In rows we ranged the wounded on the grass.

A vast Infemo, writhing In deep pain,

A slaughter house strewn deep with mangled dead
A rank offence to Reason's sceptred reign.

A challenge seemed to God, the woes wlde-epread.

When tardy dawn the eastern sky had flecked.

It lit the face of many a fallen brave.
Whose spirit from Its prison ng clay had fled,

Uncared, unklssed, to tin ^a nameless grave.

The dead we searched, but not for traahy gold

Their name, address, and rank we wished U) trace.

The things we found some tender secret told.
Of mother, sweetheart, wife, religion, race. '

A Hlgland lad, there was. In face refined.

Whose right hand clasped a tiny locket tight.

In whose recess an Image lay enshrined ;
A sweet face set In spray of heather white.

A letter, crease-worn, soiled, and closely pressed
Lay next the manly heart, now stilled In death

A mother's love Indited and Impressed :

" Remember, son, fight the good fight of Faith "

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.'

I(K>

With tearful eye the trinkeU we removed,
With tender care the tell-tale tokens took.

That maid might know her knight a hero proved,
And mother cease for son's return to look.

The grime and gore disfiguring the face,
We washed away with all a mother's care.

The wayward locks our hand*, smoothed down in place
As maid might toy her lover's tousled hair.

The comrade, hero, lovcr, son, we bore,
With heavy heart. hU head at rest we laid.

We burled him, our thoughts on yonder shore.

Where fond maid hoped and anxious mother prayed.

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears

Which strong men shed when battle's work Is done

When comrades leal, the trusted friends of years.
Are flagged to death— by treachery undone.

With heads laid bare, and round the grave still ranged.

Each made a vow with Imprecating breath,
" Witness, ye heavens, this deed shall be avenged,

I swear, so help me God, In life or death."

Each comrade rose, all thought of failure spurned
Renewed the conflict with resistless stroke ;

It was not long ere victory returned.

And British feats did world-wide praise evoke.

When Saxon prowess you define and praise.

And Highland valor ynu extol and sing.
When Celtic courage Is the theme you raise.

Or launch the trio on triumphant wing

Give not the glory to the armored fleet,

Nor highest meed to armies' measured tread •

Your tribute lay at some lone maiden's feet.
Your laurels take to some poor widow's shed.

The deed of valor or the height of fame,

That lustrous loom and shall survive the sod

Are forged and gilded In the cloven flame
Of love for mother, wife, and trust In God.

Rev. P. M. McEachem, Waterdown, Ont.

P0KM8 AND 80N(}S

WAOaON HILL.

Drake In the North Sen grimly prowling,

Treading his deai " Revenge's " deck,
Watched, with the eea-dogs round him growling,
Oalleona drifting wreck by wreck.
" Fetter and Faith for England's neck.
Faggot and Father, Saint and chain—
Vonder the Devil and all go howling,

Devon, O Devon, In wind and rain !"
Drake at the last off Nombre lying.

Knowing the night that toward him crept.
Gave to the ma-dogs round him crying,
This for a sign before he slept ;
" Pride of the West ! What Devon hath kept
Devon shall keep on tide or main ;
Call to the etorm and drive them flying,
Devon, O Devon, In wind and rain !"
Valor o* England gaunt and whitening.
Far in a south land brought to bay.
Locked in a death-grip all day tightening.
Waited the end in twilight grey.
Battle and storm and the sea-dog's way !
Drake frron his long rest turned again.
Victory lit thy steel with lightning,
Devon, O Devon, In wind and rain !

Henry Newman, Ladysmlth, Natal.

LADY8MITH. ,

The following Is the story of the origin of Ladysmlth :—

On« curious incident in the atoge of Badajoe may be related The
day after the aamult two Spanish ladles, the younger a beautiful
girl o< fourteen, appealed for help to two offloera of the RlHee who
were passing through one of the streets of tJie town. Their drees
was torn, their earn, from which rings had been roughly snatched
were bleeding, and to escape outrage or death they caat themaelvee
on the protection of the first Brittoh offloers they met One of the
offloers waa Captain Harry Smith, <rf the Rifles. Two yeara later
he married th§ girt he had saved in a scene so wild. Captain

on THJi SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

Harry Smith, in afur yean aenred at 4he Cape aa Sir Harry, and
thl- Spaaiah girl, as Lady Smith, gave her name to the hUtoric
town which Sir George White defended with .uch .tubbom ralor.
1 he two great ateges of Badajo. and Ladyamlth are separated from
each other by nearly a century, but there exiau this intereaUng
human link between them.-We may alao suite that Harry.mlth la
a town in South Africa.

Privy Purse Office,

Buckingham Palace.

The Private Secretary is commanded by the Queen to thank the
Rev. O. E. Roe. for hia letter of the 26th ult.. and for the accom-
panying veraea : —

12th April, 1900.

Buckinghar i>alaoe.

A. BiaOE.

THE RELIEF OF LADY8MITH.

Hark the chiming of a million Joyous bells.
Wreathed in glory is the tale their chiming tella ;
Bleeding Ladysmlth is free.
L«t it echo o'er the sea,
While the heirs of liberty.
Strike the bells.

Prom the lips ot genius speeds the magic word,
Far and near, determined hands are on the sword ;
U>. a giant at the wheel,
See the foeman backward reel.
While ten thousand points of 8t»»el,
Strike the bells.

Hark, the mighty measured tramp of desperate men,
See the lowering battle's front— o'er hill and glen ;
Look, they cross the death-swept plain.
Burst the adamantine chain.
Wiping out Majuba's stain,
Strike the bells.

lOFMH AND 80N(»8

Hwrk the moanlni of a thouaand bleeding men,
There la blood and raga, yea, death upon the plain •
Brltaln'i aona, the foe withatood.
And cemented with their blood.
Mighty emplrea o'er the flood.
Strike the beila.

Blewling hearta Itot the chiming of the belle,
Wreathed In gloi-y u the tale their chiming telle •
That no aralanche of flre, '

Nor dark hell'a entangled wire,
Could one backward atep Inapire,
Touch the bella.

See Dun- aid o'er the bloody kopje* fly,
Leada th. iquadrona who«» terrific battle' cry
Rends the amoke cloud in the heaven.
From the prey the foe la driven,
When the mighty word is given,
Ring the bells. •

Gallant White, the British Flag U proud of thee
And thou ha3t proved thy worth to keep It free •
Far around the warriors lie,
Facee fixed on Afric's sky.
But the Old Flag flutters high.
Hark the bells.

Hall Buller ! Britain', palm Is surely thlue.
Mid shot and shell thy form waa In the line •
Hewing out the desperate way.
Pounding, blasting, night and day.
Thou has shared the bloody fray.
Hark the bella.

Hark, the rescued city rings triumphant bells
Hushed forever is the crash of bursUng shells •
Death Is cheated of his prise,
BrlUsh hallelujahs rise.
To the Name that never dies.
Strike the bells.

ON THE SOUTH AFKICAX WAR.

lis

Of an Empire-. Jove to thee their chimin. telU
Bending low thy ,lorlou. hw) '

Weeping oer the Brltl.h dead. '
Thou thy queenly tears haat ahed
Strike the belli.

Rev. O. E. Roes. ShannonTllle. Ont.

Olandeboye. Ireland, March 8. 1900.

Believe me, yours sincerely.

Dnfferln and Ava.

CANADA TO DUFFERIN.

The man whose name sUnda highest In the esteem

Is not forgotten, now that death's dark stream

Hath quenched the hope, which once burnt proud and high.
Ah ! Who .hall «iy how much the father thought-

How oft the mother prayed, as days .ped on

kTJmr^'^''' ''"""^ -anhood'^^au^;;
The Are Promethean passed from sire to son.

And when at length the cry " To arms !" was heard

And valiant deed, succeeded boasting words
Brave Ava rushed to battli^id and dared

The hero 8 part against unequal horde..
As now th- Illustrious father bows his head

In manly grief beside that honored bier •
We. too, would sorrow for the noble dead '

And mourn his loas with those whom we revere.

Rev. J. R. Newell.

114

POEMS AND SONGS

SONNET BY SWINBURNE.

The wave that breaks against a forward stroke,

Beats not the swimmer back, but thrills him through,

With joyous trust to win his way anew,

Through stronger seas than first upon him broke ;

And triumph, England's iron-tempered oak

Shrank not when Europe's might against her grew

Full, and her sun drank up her foes like dew.

And lion-like from sleep her strehgth awoke.

As bold in fight as bold In breach of trust,

We find our foes and wonder not to find.

Nor grudge them praise, whom honour may not bind ;

But loathing more intense then speaks disgust.

Heaves England's heart when scorn is bound to greet

Hunters and hounds whose tongues would lick their feet.

TO THE SOLDIERS OF THE SECOND CONTINGENT
On Their Departure for South Africa.

Farewell ! brave soldiers of the British flag !

— You're oft to fight for Empire and for Queen —
Farewell ! May love to €anada ne'er lag,

Though million miles of ocean He between.

Yours is to stand for freedom's heaven-born right ;

To uphold the cause of justice — man to man !
To hurl defiance at the despot's seat.

And In the thick of baUle, lead the van !

Ours, is to wait, and watch, and help, and pray ;

To ask the Ood of battles, that this war,
—Waged In the cause of liberty — e'en may

To happy iseue come, in days not far.

Yours is to brave the weary midnight march ;

Perchance upon the battle-field to roam,
And hear some wounded comrade sadly call

For loved ones absent and for " Home, Sweet Home."

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

115

Dura Is to comfort those you leave behind,
—To cheer the downcast, and to wipe the tear

When word shall come that brother, lover, son,'
Or husband fond, has filled a soldier's bier •'

For all. alas ! we know, will not return.

Some graves must hollowed be. on Af'rlc's strand '

Some bones must whiten 'neath the broad palm-tree
Of those who dare to fight for mother-land.

Ah entrance may they find at Heaven's gate
Full and abundant !— trusUng Him who died

To save the world from cruelty and hate,
—The wrongs of the oppressor and his pride.

But some, we'll welcome warmly home again '

Though scarred, perchance, the dear brave boys may be.

We'll love them better for the scars they bear

As through them. Queen and country we shall see.

Then loud shall sound our peans of applause '
Prolonged our notes of welcome and our cheers

AS In remembrance fond, we'll ever hold
Our brave Canadian boys-our volunt^rs !

Miss L. A. Edwards. Truro, N.S.

OUR SISTERS OF SUCCOR.

Leagues upon leagues away, over the ocean

Unshrinking to serve In an alien lani
Summoned by duty, inspired by devotion

Of ministering women behold a brave 'band • •
Enlisted from every rank and condition.

Marching as one, under Charity's lead

'^"^h.rn'Ti; " Humanity !>•-" Mercy'" their mission.
They speed them to nurture their brothers In need.

116

POEMS AND SONGS

A truce to these wallinga at woman's position,

To ber claim as man's equal his work to divide,
To her suit at life's bar— In her Jaundiced ambition—

For what Nature must always against her decide ; '
In the storm and the stress — to the strong the survival !

O'er the waves of the world, Man, the vessel must steer.
Let her stand by his side, but a helpmate — no rival,

In sickness, to cherish— in adversity, cheer.

See ! yon parlors of pain, where the souls fast are flying,

Now the battle is over, the victory won,
Maimed, helpless and mute, there's a soldier-boy lying !

Oh, well their nell's business the bullets have done !
He moans ! to his rough band soft fingers are creeping.

And the drought in his throat, the cool draught seemR to stay.
And he thinki as he sinks to, maybe, his last sleeping,

That an angel has surely been passing his way.

Sisters of succor ! whom all now sliall honour.

Bearing to-day in the confliit their part.
Each one gone forth with CSod's blessing upon her,

Man's life in her hands — ^woman's love in her heart.

Cotsford Dick, " London World."

OUR NURSES IN SOUTH AFRICA.

We sing of the soldier who's gone to the war.

His country's battles to fight !
We publish his bravery and daring afar,

And truly, well we might !
But what of the nurses who've gone to the front.

To succor the wounded men ?
We should like — in Justice to all concerned —

To hear a good word for them.

They have left the warmth of their own firesides,

To rough it across the deep !
To spend — and be spent — for their country's weal.

While we on our couches sleep !

ONTHE SOUTH AFRICAxV WAR.

117

The long, long viglla that fall to their lot

The numberless steps they take
As they gently glide to the sufferer's side

Should surely a record make !

A terrible living freight ! u m.

Say, who are heroes to come and go

On the doctors' bidding to wait ' '
Who soothes the man with the broken limb '

Who wipes away the tear '

^''^T^^ V *^* '°^^ °°«« *"' ^"' come,
Or the Border-land draws near !

Say, Who are these figures that oome and go '
Are they men In the khaki clad ? "

They are .women — w<w.ir mnr,,^^

Rut «,i- , r wnen— as sometimes styled
But they make the sick ones glad ! '

They ve endurance that comes from some hidden source •

AnI r ^^ K«ntleness. kindness and skill '

And the role that our.noble nurses play
Is no easy one to fill »

"^N^ altT' "*? ''*""'' °' ^"^ ^^ be faced !
Not alone does the soldier die '

This faithful friend is there tUl the end.

And cloees the upturned eye '
A meesage-perchance-ere,the dear boy went

Was sent to the loved on^s at home ;

To be k^t for their eara alone.

^'"t^ IT"!^ ""* ""'■'^ ''*>°'^« «o°« to the front
To succor the wounded men' '

We Should like-in justice to all concerned-

To hear a good word for them '
They are working and wearing their lives away

In the service of Empire and Queen '
And aa fully deserve their meed of praise

As the men in the khaki. I ween

Miss L. A. Edwards, Truro, N.S.

«jr«e> jT ■ytwuv'*:-— »a»^ -j^t <

118

rOEMS AND SONGS

!ill

THE WOMEN WHO WAIT.

We bave sung tbe songs by the sounding guns

Away on the burning veldt.
We have mourned for the dead, who have fought and bled

In the thick of the bullet's pelt ;
We have cheered for the men who have dropped the pen,

But what of the women who wait !

Ah ! what of the wife who has lent a life,

And waits in the winter gloom —
And the. sister's fears and thQ mother's tears,

And the hush of the lonely room ?
When the 'lists' are out, and the newsboys shout

The ' bill ' of their book of Fate,
Let us spare a thought, from the men who fought ,

For the tortured women who wait !

The Cape Times.

PRESS YE ON, BRITONS BRAVE !

There are sounds of fiercest conflict far away in Africa,

And the hosts of Britain speed across the wave
While the sons of Australia and loyal Canada

Have gone forth to Join the banners of the brave.
There were plaints of dire oppression heard upon that distant shore,

But the Anglo-Saxon cry Is liberty !
And once more their cannons echo, and the hands are stained with
gore,

That the world may share the . blessings of the free.

Chorus :

Press y on, Britons brave ! Press ye on, Britons true !

Though a strong and fearless foeman bars the way.
There are future peace and blessing frr that land across the blue.

In the triumph of our banners, man, to-day.

ON THE SOUTH AFKICAN WAR.

119

^*wLn°;r "'"J' ^'''^"^ ''"^- *»»°.««ver fought In vain,
When the sacred cause of freedom claimed your aid '

STh^hir'!,"'.' ''"""''^ "''"• ^"^ '"•«'"' oppression-^ chain :
Of the hero s death ye never were afraid •

For°LT"'"' '^" remember, and the. heart of Britain bleeds
For the brave who shall return to her no more,

And r 'T '" '" "'' ^'^°^' W^° ^^« '^''^ o' "^om speeds
And she knows that cause shall triumph as of yore.

Chorus :

Press ye on. Britons brave! Press ye on. Britons tnie-
Though a strong and fearless foeman bars the way

xn tne triumph of our banners, men, to-day.

John Mortimer, Elora, Ont.

BOBS.

There's a little red-faced man.

Which Is Bobs ! k

Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can—
Our Bobs !

If It bucks or kicks or rears,

'E can sit for twenty years.

With a smile round both 'is ears-^
Can't yer, Bobs ?

Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur-
Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs !

'E's our pukka Kandahader—
Flghtln' Bobs, Bobs, Bobe !

'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel,'

'E's the, man that done us well.

An' we'll follow Im to 'ell !
Won't w«, Bobs ?
' Go ahead.

120

POEMS iLND SONGS

If a limber's slipped a trace,

'Ook on Bobs ;
If a marker's lost 'Is place.

Dress by Bobs.
For 'e's eyes all up 'Is coat.
An' a bugle In 'is throat.
An' you will not play the goat

Under Bobs.

'E's a little down on drink.

Chaplain Bobs ;
But It keeps us outer clink —

Don t it, Bobs ?
So we will not complain,
Tho' 'e's water on the brain.
If 'e leads us straight again —

Blue-light Bobs.

If you stood 'Im on 'is 'ead

Father Bobs,
You could spill a quart o' lead

Outer Bobs.
'E's been at it thirty years,

An' amassin' soureneers
In the way o' slugs an' spears —

Ain't yer, Bobs ?

What 'e does not know 'o war,

Oen'ral Bobs,
You can arst the shop next door —

Can't they, Bobs ?
Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise ;
'E's a terror for 'is size.
An' 'e — does — not — advertise —

Do yer, Bobs ?

Now they've made a bloomin' Lord

Outer Bobs,
Which was but 'is fair ireward —

Weren't it, Bobs ?
An' 'ell wear a coronet
Where 'is 'elmet used to set ;
But we know you won't forget —

Will yer, Bobs ?

'*VT"";r,-:. "^Wi-

i '5 *i'iih •-

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

121

And

Then, 'en's to Bobs Bahadur-
Little Bobs. Bobs, Bobs !

Pockflt-Wellln'ton an" arder— '
Flghtln' Bobs. Bobs, Bobs !

This ain't no bloomln' ode.

But you've 'elped the soldier's load,

An' for beneflU bestowed.

Bless yer, Bobs !
a half.

GENERAL LORD ROBERTS.

Like all whose thoughts these perilous times engage,

I cast my eyes adown the printed pa^e,

And, with a deepening thrill of pride, I read

How Roberta planned, and how hUi legions bled.

How through the captured town brave Roberts rode.

Like some proud king hla charger he bestrode.

Like Roman conqueror he, save that his way

Recalls no history of a tyrant's sway.

No pale and gory captives round him kneel,

Nor dusty slaves faint. at his chariot wheel ;

The cheering thousands only In him scan

The wise and kindly Christian gentleman.

Far o'er the seas he knows the news will go.

The land he loves, the Queen he honors so.

Will share his triumph, and— more tender, dear

And cherished— others will the tidings hear

With pulsing hearts ; yet. In a scene like this.
There Is a form his craving eye will miss !

A lithe young form, well trained to warrior's art.

That from a hero learned a hero's part.

Ah, stricken sire ! one shadow dims the ray

Of glory that now hovers o'er thy way ;

Nor In Fame's toxic cup can'st thou forget ;

A bitter drop Invades Its sweetness yei.

How heavy In the scate 'gainst honors won

Will weigh the passing of thine only son !

This to myself I told, (for well I know

That woe, though w^l sustained, is ever — woe)

And felt a kindred pang to that which smote

The father's hea.t beneath the general's coat

M. J. Wells.

122

POEMS AND SONGS

SON OF BOBS.

When the youngster came to 'elp,

Son of Bobs,
We looked for a Lion's whelp.

Just like Bobs,
Oh, he was his " Father's Son,"
And worse luck, the only one.
But I'll tell you what waa done.

By young Bobs.

Just as usual, no foreelght.

Not like Bobs,
Sendin' guns, as was too light.

Not by Bobs,
Bullets, shrapnell, shot and shell.
Men were killed l^ke flies, and fell.
Round the guns was like a 'ell.

And we'd no Bobs.

But the 'old block's' chip was there

Son to Bobe,
Blunder saw— tried to repair.

Just like Bobs,
So— he dashed into that 'ell
Limbered up, and roda out well,
Then went back and wounded fell,

Poor young Bobs !

So he won " Victoria Cross "

Just like Bobs,
But he died— who feels his loss ?

Like poor Bobs,
As comes with <a broken heart,
To command, and do his part.
And we'll avenge him when we start.

Under Bobs.

J. B. H.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

123

OUR BOYS.

Out on the red veldt, 'mid Afrlc's send,

Where fierce tempesU roar, by torrid winds fanned.

The men of an Empire stand fit foi" the fi(?ht.

With their eyea on the motto—" For God and the Right."

And the whole of Old England throba as one heart.
Knowing well how her brave sons are playing their part,
Though rejoicing at victory, she ahivers with pain,
As, bowing her proud head, she weeps for the slain.

But cheer up, Old England, who's this comes In sight,
With their eye on the enemy, keen for the fight ;
With hearts true as steel, yea ! dauntless, and more ? --'
Why. these are your grandsons, from Canada's shore.

They have come from tibe home nest, the mart and the field.
At the feet of the Mother Queen, homage to yield ;
They will rally around her In Ume of her need.
They will fight for her, die for her— boys of all creed.

Good boys, brave boys, boys of the Western Sphere,
The God of battle be with you all, who know no shrinking fear;
Some of you must lay down your lives, where many a hero sleeps,
WhUe Canada's heart with pride doth swell, proud Canada also
weeps.

Good boys, brave boys, boys of the Western Sphere,

The God of battle be with you all, who know no shrinking fear;

Proud Canada shouts from shore to shore, her cry comes far and

near.
Unfurl your flags, and for "Our Boys" give cheer : cheer ! cheer I

Mrs. Saunderson, Montreal.

A HEALTH, MY LADS !

Here's to the lad in khaki clad

From the Provinces down by the sea ;
He shoulders his gun, not merely for fun,

From the Provinces down by the sea.

POEMS AND S0N08

Here's to Nora Scotia then.

Down, down, diinJt It down »
Prince Edward and New Brunawlck men.

Down, down, drink It down »

Here's to tbem all who answered the call

From the Province of Old Quebec ;
French in hU name, he la British the ume.
From the ProTince of Old Quebec.
Here's to Old Quebec, my friends.

Down, down, drink It down !

And gallant habltanu she sends,

Down. down, drink it down !

Here's to the strong, who came in a throug

When Ontario went on the war-path ;
They are the chaps who picked up their traps
When Ontario went on the war-path.
Here's to the Midland Province then.

Down, down, drink it down !
Her sons are all of them men among men,
Down, down, drink it down !

Here's to the squad, fearing but God,

The Police of the plains of the West •
Their shooUng's to kill, and their flghUng'e like helL
Those scouta of the Plains of the West
From Manitoba to the * Golden Coast."

Down, down, drink it down !
They are Canada's pride and Canada's boast,
Down. down, drink It down !

C. A. Botsford, Brigham. Que.

THE CANADIAN VOLUNTEERS FOR SOUTH AFRICA.

Here's a song to our brothers who've gone to the war

Hark to the flfe and drum !
For we cannot forget them although they're afar.

Hark to the fife and drum !

ON TIIK SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

125

IJh .1! .• •-" ^ *''• ''*'**°' *""»> African dim,.

So we II give them a little remembrance In rhyme
Hark to the nfe and idrum !

Chorus :

Britannia ! Brttanrla !
True are the sona of Canada.
Britannia ! BrlUnnla !
March to the fife and drum.

Here'e a song to the officers gallant and brave

Hark to the life and drum •
heres a «,ng to the men who know how to behave

Hark to the flfe and drum '

Who ,,„ suffer no manner of stein on their shield '
In the camp, on the march, or the perilous field
Hark to the flfe and drum !

They were aniclou. to give their old Mother a hand

Hark to the fife and drum '
So they gathered from every part of the land

Hark to the flfe and drum •
They arose In the east and the cent,* with zest.
And they came from the Umltle.. plains of the Vert.
And adown to the ship they went marching abJS^

Hark to the flfe and drum !

Not a moment was lost when they heard the alarm

Hark to the flfe and drum '
They went out from the city, the village, the farm.

Hark to the flfe and druir '
And the merchant, the clerk, the mechanic, the swain
Pu the uniform on and sailed over the main
With a God save the Queen.' and a ' Vive la Relne !'

Hark to the fife and drum !

Let us tru« theyl, be happy-we knew they'll be true
Hark to the flfe and drum ' '

Let us wteh them good fortune until they get through
Hark to the flfe and drum !

•JVf^ A,

I'OKMh AND H0N08

Mar ttMy make Qumb Victoria's «iMmlM run,
And come home again safe when the vlotory's won,
And make Canada proud of the deeds they have done.
Hark to th# fife and drum !

W. M. M.

AT BAY.

Brave British YimriM. that In beleacuer'd holds

With ceaseless toll,
Ouard the old flag's war-worn and blacken'd (olds

On Afrlc's soil.

Where, back to back, amid the crimson'd sands.

Weary with blows.
Whelps of the Lion ! ye fare the snarling bands

Of wolfish foes, ,

That from their vantage volleying thunder and flame,

Yet dread their prey,
As wary hunters dread the royal game

They bring to bay ;—

Right nobly have ye shown th"* «i.»''i^ Boer,

Whose brood ye be ;
Sons of the Sea Queen ! gather'd from each shore.

And ev'ry sea.

There tolls the, might of England ; showing the scom

Their bosoms feel,
Who deem the peasant-foe, ignobly bom.

Scarce worth their steel.

There, gay and free, green Erin's reckless boys,

Inur'd to war.
Eager to taste the battle's maddening Joys,

Range near and far.

And boonle Scotland, too, my own lov'd land.
Though last to name —

Wltnees the prowess of her kilted band-
Not least In fame.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

127

Nor lacks tba t-tbute of the snowy North ;

The torrid sons ;
Nor Australasia's gift sent frMlr forth—

Her blood Siid bone.

Llnkd In a common cause. sUunch conirsdes thee*—

Steadfast of soul,—
Not to t>e mated from the seven seas,

'Tween pole and pole.

Regard them well, their bearing bold and high.

Their bauKhty stare ;
The pride of Empire tn each flashing eye.

Each martial air.

Not these the men to lightly hold their trust.

Or basely yield ;
For many a savage foe will bite the dust

On that far fleld,

Ere i.om lu staff yon fluttering rag be rent,

That yet shall wave
Triumphant o'er a oonquer'd continent.

Won by the brare. "

Then. Heart ! brave lads ; the dark and stormful night

Is near p.n end ;
Already faintly on the glimmering height

Dawn's beams descend.

Soon must the spoiler turn him from the chase

To guard his own ;
And. overtaken In the headlong race,

Be overthrown.

But not more warmly will we hall you then.

Nor with more pride.
When through the foeman's capiui our men

Victorious stride,—

Than now, hard presa'd— gainst fearful odds— (a sight

That dims «ach eye).
Ye show the admiring world how brave men flght.

And, how they die !

Robert Reld, Montreal.

128

illl

POEMS AND HONGS

THE IRISH TROOPER'S FAREWELL.

Meet me to-night, Mavourneen !

Tryst with me once again,
'TiB my last night in Old Ireland,

Before I cross the main.
Let me stand on the deck to-morrow.

And think as .1 leave this shore,
That the last kind soul that spoke to me

Was the colleen I adore.

Tell me once more, Mavourneen !

Tell me the old sweet tale,
That has power to stir men's bosoms

When sterner voices fail ;
And for many a night out yonder

It will keep me leal and true,
I could not be aught but loyal, love,

To be worthy sucA as you.

And should I fall, Mavourneen !

As many a brave lad falls.
For ours is the post of danger

When duty's trumpet calls ;
God comfort your heart with the thought, dear

That I blest ye as I fell.
And spare one tear at the gloaming hour

For the boy that lov'd ye well !

Robert Reid.

WAUCHOPE'S FAREWELL TO EDINBl'RGH.

Gae bring me the gude claymore again.

The kilt and the tartan plaid ;
For a voice comes sounding over the main

That I ken must be obeyed ;
Thrice has it call'd frae the far-off clime,

And thrice at the call I sprang,
And tho' it should be for the Lfnmaist time

As blytbe as of yore I'll garr

mtm^:ti^mssm:^ntn^,!-

^mAV, jzimm'a- -::w!i±

ON THE SOUTH -VFRICAN WAR.

'TIS the voice of our noble Queen I hear

And she speaks In freedom's cause.-'
• ^'. "immon my warriors far and near

To suar;^ . ly lands and laws ;
For a freer, rn's rights, while Ctod me aids

Bach Br ton shall command,
..xid ...c- to the reckless foe that raids

On Britaln-s bought-bought land !"

So Ifs fare thee weel, thou auld grey toon
That sits -neath the dour grey skies

m whose blythe neuks and the braes aroun'
My pride and pleasure lies ;

For a call like that, nae Scottish heart
Has ever been deaf to hear.

Tho' the listener kens that it'bids him part
Fraea- that he holds malst dear.

The signal hath sped owre strath and hill

And the clans are gathering fast
For ours is a race that could ne'er bide still

When the flery cross fleets past ■
And where could a man find darg sae dear

As to fight for home and Queen
Wi- the Skirl o' the pipes to soothe his ear
As he fa's asleep at e'en ?

But awa' wl' the thocht* o' death and dule
•Tls o- war's stem Joys I'd sing •

Let the bu.k the streets in the gaib of Yule
And the bells o' the Castle ring •

Syne Play us aboard wi' a canty sirain.
And we'll proudly put to sea •

Tho'lfsllketobelangoryeloijkagaln
• "° "y »>™^. braw lads, and me '

Robert Reld.

•^^ '^'T^j.Msrinns '>. ■

130

POEMS AND SONGS

THE RETURN FROM DOUGLAS.

The Canadians acted as escort for the refugees, and carried babies
for the mothers, and keUt everybody lively by singing as they
marched plucklly along through the heavy sand.

The 'Maple Leaf Forever,' they sing.

And 'Soldiers of the Queen,'

And the rescued women smile down on the lines.

From the crowded waggons, between

Grief, for the homes to be left to the foe,

Fears, of what the future may bring,

Are dispelled by the light-hearted lips of the lads.

Who carry the babies and sing.

There's a soft little arm on the soldier's neck.

And a warm little cheek near his own,

As he tramps through the grinding, sliding sand.

And sings in that cheery 'tone.

Ready, aye ready, for work or watch,

Or march, or fight, as the bugles ring;

Just now it is duty, and pleasure for sure.

To carry the babies and sing.

'Bless the uoys,' laugh the mothers at home,
While brushing the tears from their eyes.
And folding the story down in their hearts.
For children's children to prize.
And the babes of the story may tell, perchance
—When little King David's a greybeard king-
How the fierce young fighters from far-away lands
Would carry the babies and sing.

Miss Sara B. Srigley, Britalnville, Ont.

♦ Tiny Prince Edward of York is called "little King David" by
his royal relations.

THE SOLDIER'S DEATH.

Out on a sun-scorched plain, away beyond the ocean wave
On Africa's far distant shore there is a soldier's grave-
No weeping willows wave above, no drooping flowers ^ow
But in that lone, unshaded spot a soldier's form lies low

Wt>'«!BUaWfc.-.»p5sJf-:ilHi. • ^ :

ON THE .SOUTH AFKICAN WAR.

131

Lnvtolted. untended. yet the one who's Bleeping there
Had used to know a slster'B love, a mothers tender care
A home where loving ones had learned to trust him as their stay-
That home is now left desolate, since he has gone away

ISn^fr* '^^ V^"** '^' '"" °^'« ™°«' »»« ^^"i his country's call

tZm ^ ZY""""^ '° '"''' ""'' '°««' ^° a^l't ^''d Btand or fall
A so dier fighting for his Queen, a hero in khaki,

Willing to sacrifice his life; the Empire must be free.

tCZiv ZT: °' '°"''"*°*' ^"'' ^''""^ ^"^'^•P^ ^^ bore.
They only added honor to the unitorm he wore

He thr'h!"!' ''^'" '^^ "^"'^ ^^ ^"^ beneath the burning sun
He thought Of rest at home again-^ter the war was done

And when on battle fields they charged, amidst a deadly hail

Of bullets from the enemy, his courage did not fail

Though others of his regiment were falling at his side.

He still fought on without a wound, where soldier bo^s had died.

But shot at last! He strove to save a lad who near him fell
Twas then the bullet did its work, and did it. but too wel

His spirit passed away, before 'twas known the field was won.

No more he'll keep the midnight watch or march to meet thp i«r,i.
Another bugle call he heard while in the st^nge iZ '

III ''''^:T'''^ -«'«^t bas Closed above his noblisaxon breast
And sounded now the last fierce charg^the soldier is at rest

Miss Adeline Johnson. Colllngwood, Ont.

OUR FIRST DEAD.

Carefully bury our lads in the sand,
Africa's diamonds less dear, than the hand
Now anchored in death's long slumber.
Ah! who could picture the cherished thought
Despite the mission that each went forth
In charge of the nation's honour.
And "meet again by our hearths and fires."
Not less brave than our English sires.

.tfr.r/MBA:^, ^•fO^im'

132

POEMS AND SOXGS

Could we yield aught to our motherhood,

Offerings more dear than our children's blood?

Not all the wealth in our western hills,

Tendered to England, enshrouded with Ills,

Imperial in heart, she prefers it,

Now in the pageant, now in the fray,

Great Britain to serve, is our glory to-day;

E'en while the tears in our homesteads are falling,

Nothing daunted, our brothers are pledged to their calling

They have fought on the banks of the Modder. "At Last."

Mrs. Letltia M'Cord, Montreal.

IN MEMORIAM.

Of Chariea Carroll Wood, Lieutenant Royal North Lancaster

Regiment.

A dark cloud over city hearts; a household draped in black
For one. who going forth to war, no welcome can win back -
To meet, his gallant father's claap-his mother's loving kiss-
Or sweet home faces sad to-day for one they long must miss!

He sailed afar o'er troubled seas, to reach an alien land
To lay a joyous youthfulnees, prone neath a foeman's 'hand
To take his share in danger's hour, until the seal of rest '
A death wound on a calm cool brow. Its solemn signet press.

For Rights most precious; Justice pure and Love of kindred soil
WhT,^*.^ "^'^ *'*°*=^ dangerward; endured a soldier's t^,.
What led that willing warrior to butchery's awful scene.

m^""^ ^"^^° ^'"^ '°"°^'^' "^ ^^""^ ""^ rear words

Of all nobility of soul all great ones do endure

And If the nations firmer stand, the Lord of Hosts' to praise

He has bravely given all he had, that standard high to raise.

No white flag drooping mournfully, no red cross floating high-

Th V, n^ ^ '*"" '^^°°''' '^^^ "« g'ortes in to-day

Though all Earth's lofty pageantries for him have pised away

'"m...

i*^ "nE3»»' <^. '"> - w- iZ"- .^f^ ^,-^m.

F^HSf®^

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

133

The iron badge of suffering, is changed to love aunreme

Miss Cassle Fairbanks, Halifax, N.S.

BRITAIN'S LOST SONS.

And thoujjjlctory soon shall gladden Britain, conqueror, still with
Yet the memory long will sadden of her heroes who have died.

Miss Katherlne A. Clarke.

THE LOST HERO

IZ X u^ ""^ ^^' ''*™' '^^' ««1 'b«t was torn
From the throne in her heart, with evanescent morn!

Not the cold wind of winter, nor soft breeze of spring

TO roar in the skies, as fierce levin flares nigh,
Will arouse thee, my loved one. departed for aye!

jfxag.vaam^i:''..

^pmmS^

134

POEMS AND SONGS

Ah! above thy low crest will the nodding grass wave,
For ye sleep tae deep sleep that is slept in the grave.
Ever hence in a dark sweep must Time's billows roll,
Since thou'rt gone, noble darling, thou pride of my soul!

The horizon is dark; thou, its lone star, hast set;
Now reigns the deep gloom of desponding regret;
Nor in gladness again can my sad spirit rise,
For my heart's in the grave, where my brave hero lies.

Through the shadow and sheen, as I drift to the sea.
My one thought, Oh! thou loved one, must ever be thee,

For oh! seared by a blast of the Dark One alone.

Thou hast left me forever! hast sought the unknown!

Ah! ne'er, np'er, will tJie tears of my sorrow be dried,
Till this poor shattered bark is o'erwhelmed by the tide:
Then farewell, my brave soldier, God willed we should part,
Oh! farewell, loved but lost, shattered idol of heart!

W. A. Wanless, London, Ont

PAARDEBERG. SOUTH AFRICA.

From the laud of the Golden West they come.

The gallant Canadians!
They spring to their feet at the tap of the drum,

The gallant Canadians!
And down in the South the lads from the West,
Meet the lads from the North and tho East, breast to breast.
And grandly, oh, grandly, they pass through the test,

The gallant Canadians!

'Tis echoed in Britain fair Canada's cry.

My gallant Canadians!
For them we have cheered; for them we will sigh.

My gallant Canadians!
Oh! Canada, Canada, grieve we with you
For your sons, for my sons, so gallant, so true.
For those who are sleeping 'neath Africa's dew,

Mv srallant Canadians!

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

135

In that they were your flons; In that they were mine.

My gallant Canadians!
On our heairu now engrave we their names for a sign.

My gallant Canadians!
For a sign and a token hereafter to be
One indlviaible, united, yet free,
ureat Britain. Australia, South Africa, thee.

My gallant Canadians!

J. T. Davies, London.

WELL DONE!

Af^.^'^^ 'T '^'J^P'' °' Canada to their Contingent in South
Africa, after Paardeberg and the Relief of Mafeking.

Well done, brave sons! Your every move we've traced:
With eager eyes-through tears-we've scanned the news-
You are of us, and so we could not choose

But stand with you or fall at Fate's behest.

We knew your valour. In your veins you bear
The chivalry of France— the Briton's pride—
With names like "Daulac" or "Champlain" to guide

Or "Brant" or "Brock" to teach you how to dare.

But never did we dream that you might do
Such deeds as late have set us wild with Joy;
Such fearless feats— fit br.a;, for fabled Troy—

As give the palm of Paardeberg to you.

We wait, impatient till the war is o'er.

To do you honour on your proud home shore.

George Graham Currie.

CAMPING ON "THE VELDT."

We're camping out on the veldt to-night,
With the stars shlninr brightly above, '
And my tJioughts seem to wander to

To home, and al! I

!nve.

you, mother.

".^X-XMK^'^S^.iS^A'J'ISBr <iS-9*^Hl

136

POEMS AND SONGS

There are two sUrs ablning ■©« and clear,

Right over my head as 1 lay,
And 1 can't help thinking they're like your eyes.

Although you're bo far away.

I suppose the robins have come again.

And the snow and frost are gone,
And you're all as busy as bees, mother.

Getting ready for summer to come.

Tell Dick to let me know the scores

When lacposse and baseball are through.

And If he goes camping be can have my thinge,
The boat and fishing rods too.

Well, mother, I'll tell you something now,

I know you don't think It sham,
Your dear, old, rackety, careless boy

Has changed to a thoughtful man.

'Twas Paardeberg did it, that fearful fight.

When I saw our brave boys fall.
And heard the boom of shell and gun.

And the wounded's piteous call.

My heart stood still, my blood ran cold
W^hen I looked on the dead, spattered face

Of one of our company's brightest boys.
And, as I stepped to his place—

I said to myself, 'Now, Jack, play the man.

Just show what you can do;
Stand steady, keep calm, fire right away.

And be sure your aim is true.'

We kept right at it all through the day.

In spite of thirst and heat,
But the Canucks and the Gfordons and CornwulTs' hot fire

At last made the Boers retreat.

Our dead all sleep In one grave, mother.

We tenderly laid ihem to rest;
It just broke our hearte, the poor, dear lads.

Canada's bravest and best.

'^i^im,'^^?!!^

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

137

They not only gave their Uvea, mother,

But their leeds spread their country's fame,

And those who scarce gave her a thought before,
Respect now, and honor her name.

You know all the rest, how seeing all lost.

General Cronje put up the white flag.
Ana surrendered with men, ammunition and arms,

Whl^h made all our camp very glad.

O; coirse there'll be more fighting I l^now,

But whether it's lost or won;
Be sure in the thickest, doing his best.

Will be your dutiful son.

The etara are beginning to fade, mother. ''

I can see faint streaks of light;
So, before I drop off to sleep. I will say,

'Good morning,' tho' with you, it's 'Good night.'

"Belleville Sun.

AT MODDER RIVER.

La«t year he stood where lyric boughs

And April spells had hold on him;
Last year he whispered lover's vows—

Now Afrlc clods He cold on him.

A grateful country names his name.
Brave words are writ in praise tor him;

But one lone maid, unheeding fame.
Doth sorrow all her days for him.

Emily McManus, "Canadian Magazine."

IN MEMORIAM.

The Canadians who fell in Africa.

All honof forever, to those who have died.
Where the shot and the shell were falling.
They fell as they fought with their face to the for
In the horrors of Dattle appalling.

il?^iki-*-!^^*^'^l^i--,j^-^

'W,

138

POEMS AND SONGS

Valiant young aoldlers; they offered their Uvea
On the aiur of war. without alihlns:
Their names are engraved on earth'a ublet of fame,
In honor and glory undying.

Enahrlned In the hletory of agea to come,
Theee heroes shall nevermore perish;
For Canada val es the brave and the true.
And with love will their memory cherish.

Miss Katherlne A. Clarke, Toronto.

AFTER PAADEBBRG.

Under those Southern skies
Many a hero lies, <

With them, our boys;
Bravely they cnarged and fell
Facing both shot and shell

With courage true.

Firm hand and steadfast eye
They meant to do or die

Out on the veldt;
They met no paitry foe
Too well their might we know.

To Brltalns cost

Widow and motaer heart,
You know the keenest smart,

Of this dread war;
Yes, through the blood yours shed
This land now lifts its head

With laurels crowned.

I'ather Thy promise keep.

When bowed with grief they weep.

Husband and Father be,
God of the battlefield
To whom all things must yield,

Soon send us peace.

S*iirfll9i.«S»»%.«»"

■■ y^f* i;a3v^Bi»v«iK."/'j::» * ivii".: ;;■• -r^

- ■^.IIK'^ *r '.- «*-7V:

ox THE SOUTH AFRICAN \VAK.

I»

Onnt tbat the tim« draw near.
When Bo«r and Briton cheer,

Under one flac;
Clasping each others hand,
Not foee, but friends they sUnd,
And sing in chorui grand.

Ood save the Queen.

Mrs. C. Saunderaon, Montreal.

TO THE CANADIAN DEAD AT MODDER RIVER.

They peacefully sleep in yon Southern Land,
The primal heroes of Canada's Band;
Throughout that glorious, yet bloody day, ^-

The brave song of Canada fought their way.
Kept to their orders— fought on and died.
Boer attack and Boer bullet defied-
At the cloee, what a terrible list is seen,
Yet, still not so awful as might have been,
For Canadians brave were in that fight,
And foremost, have they the glory, bright
Of facing their wily and wiry foe.
And keeping them back by united blow-
May we not all suppose, that when
Comrade saw comrade fall — that then.
Some thought of Home welled In the breast,
And gave them a greater and fiercer zest.
To flght to the last and let Britons see,
That Canada's sons can 'do and dee.'

Peace to their ashes— the grass will wave-
Over the graves of our Heroes, brave.
Yet itheir memory will ever be
Sunk in the heart " o' their ain countree"—
And our Canada may well be proud
And flash abroad, ever long and loud
The Pajan, that she is a daughter fair.
Of the Old Mother, and proud to bear
Part of her troubles, in that she be
Linked ever, secure In her destiny.
And should It be — then tell to the world,
That the Union Jack, when once unfurled,
Helped by the Maple Leaf, ever shall roll.
Unstained and unsullied, »m pole to pole.

J. Douglas liortnwick, LL.D.

mfvwm-'ist''' ?fi3J«Wit-«fB*^-''-i'-t."^'<.aBR

140

roEMH AND 80N08

-. .1

OUR DEAD.
Our «,n. hare b«,T. put to the «.rn proof of death

Their loyal lov,. What, mother, would't thou Jor.?
Facing the fury of war', deadly breath

They fell a« brayely aa their airea of yore.

With fearle.. front they faced the common foe;
Like veteran, they atood. like veteran., died

And not In vain did their brave llfe-.tream flow.
We grudge thee not our noble dead, altho'

Each .haft that .lew with lightning motion .oed
Beyond lu goal, and .truck a tw<^fold blow-

The dead, and the dark home of that dear dead.
But now to one ud chord our pulse, move

Yet^ Mother, well we know thou .halt not prove
Forgetful of the precious gifu we gave. '

J. C. M. Duncan.

DEAD BY THE MODDBR.

Jo^ JrtrirenTi: ^wT S^ar^t ^fr^' '^°"^
■ongsters, when he died. ^ °°' °' •''"" ■^«'^«'»

Dead by the Modder they lie,
Under a Muthern sky;
Happy It is to die

For Country and Queen.
The Muth their bone, shall hold,
But here, in the north, bohold
The shrine of those strong and bold

Shall rise ere the grass Is green.

Dead by the Modder! our sons.
Their dead hands clasping their guns
Dead! while the enemy runs.

Dead, but our flag sweeps along'
Now, well we know that we are
One people beneath every star,
One blood, one steel; and afar

The nations know NOW we are strong.

Arthur Weir, Ottawa.

ii.*-i'

-fe',i''i.'»45l.

-1TS^SLi.>^•¥>scltfil^i sm^mi

OS TIIK sorni XKKICAN WAH.

141

FROM THE TRENCHES.

When the^blaat b.aw. .nell frae the Bal.oeh. and ch.lU iU ,uiverln'

A gey rough aqimd ye'd hae thocht n. hai.i, i- . .

For we hadna been bred In pTrL an ? °"' "^'" "'' •'^^''•
reach; Wrlora, and malnnera wore oot o' oor

fnl'th^J*""'"' "'"^ '" ""**"'• •^"■•^ ""'y "'« wanu to tell

And there^waana a loon that lay there, wad hae runl'l at"i,e yetta

There waa^a^dy McNab. o" Glen Dochart. and Roy rrae the Angua
tT^i P*!'- «• »H>nnler fechtera neer fac'd their country'a faea-

r eJi g^: oTh^-a^arcrthi^Tr r"^'« ^'' «"'- « -^

u a raeoutk. when the keeper waa fou 1* the toon.

There were Gordons and Grants hv »i,» ji

Campbell or twa. ^ *""'°' """ '^ ««°t'eman

To 'leaven the lump." they tauld ua wl' »h«<r in »„

l,law "'*''^ lll-tongued wastUn

And nane jook thocht o' the morrow, but leuch at hU comrades
""'" '""no morV""°^ '""• "'=^^'— • «ot humm.n' "Lochaber
T^tZZ T^""; "^^'■' '^' """"' ^'^^ wearisome after thaf
And that^wlld Hit tauld ua plainly. TZl^LTl^ Z^^^^

m^-^-^&iimi^Mi&^a,^^''

142

PCMiMS AND SON(iS

As I dover'd there 1' the darknesB, my heart grew unco wae.
For I saw. in a gl»3. the loanin' where I kised sweet Jean Macrae,
The door >' oor cot V the clachan— and mlther was greetin' there.—
While the reek frae the auld man's smlddy. gaed bonnlly up 1' the
air.

And I thocht o" the peace and plelsure, I'd nlffert for toll and pain
And was ferlyln" salr gin I'd ever see Luss or the Lomonds again'
When a quick step strak the shingle, and brawly lu errand we kent
Or the voice said. Lads, ye're wanted,' and we louplt like grews to
the bent.

God! but there's naethlng like fechtln', when life 1' the bluld beate
hie;

Nocht 1- the warld like the fierce wild joy when It's you or your fae

maun dee,
I carena hoo I may get It,— In grips, wl' the dirk r the han'—
Oor cannlly stalkln' Ilk Ither. as I've stalklt the deer on Ben Aan.

We had plenty o' balth that moriln', for the road was stey and lang
And frae mony a calm on tne kopje the puff o' the rifle sprang.
We dodg'd frae the tree to the boulder, and on frae the stane to

the tree.
And mony a chlel was couplt, that never his fae did see.

And syne wl' a yell that wad wauken the deld. we had rush'd the
And a moment to catch his hlnmaist word, was a' that I could stay
For noo we wer« close on the summlt-the trenches were plain to
be seen,

And syne wl' a yell that wad wauken the deld. we had rush'd the
space between.

They pepper d us salr or we reach'd them, I got a bit scart mysel'-
And Roy-brave Roy frae the Angus-was ane o' the lot that fell-
I eprang for the carle that did It. and he tried to gle me the same.
But or ever he flnger'd the trlcker I had sllpplt the steel In his wame!

We feenish't them aff In a Jlffy-a maltter o' fifty or malr-
For your Boer, run into a comer, is nocht but a feckless hare-
They oot Wl' their dirty hankies, and ettled to end the^,o" '
But we^never let on we saw them, for they'd play'd that tri'ck be-

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAK.

143

TJ^T.T **"• """* """"^ «'«»«^ **"»» «^»nr mountain aroon'
A perfect deluge o" buUeU and Bhella aent Bhoorln doon.

And, Lord! how a man will huatle when he'a tryln' to save hla liln!

wl" rw?!*h.7"'[' *° " °^°"' •""* ^"^ ^'^^ °^'« to »»>« brae.
T in^t,! . '"^ ''°**'* '^^ 'Donald.- and It Boondlt wauf and wae
aJr« l^n"*^ McCrlmmon. and hl» eon were set wl' patn-
Some really Boer had glen him the butt, and the lad was nearly

J-oT*i l^i^ h '"!' ""*, '°''*°'*''' '*"*"»»' " ^°«t "« »»'ther cloor.

.touri"" "° *" '" "'• ''"' ''^^ "'^^^^ ^^"-^ «^'°' "•'e
Sae I up wr the Ud 1' my oxter (It wae nocht for a cowt Mke me)
And run. like the Dell wl' the midwife, fast as a gled Tn Zl

But the^buUetB a' seem'd to miss me. and I managd to dodge the

f ^f .?*mT *"f ^"* ^ '^"* **•»-» •'•°'' °' » 8'ant palm-
I .tolter'd into Us shelter, and fell, held first. In a dwawm!

And th^y^tell me I'm nam'd In despatches, and sure o' the great

For the corp o the commoneet fechUn' man is malr eneuch to tine
But to pairt wl' a leerin Piper! losh. It never ance cross'd my mln"?

ti!!7^' u,**" '"? *"" ^ *•" "• ''•^ •'■ »y »>««" » ''reel.
I ve as muckle use for a toy like that, as a calrt for an extra wheel-
But Jeanle. the llmmer. mlcht like to see't. and gle me a ktas o/twa
To get welrln-t some day In her bo«,m-where It dootle« wad l^li

But Gtod forgle me for thlnkln' o' ocht o' the kind this day
When the twa best freens man ever had. are naeth.ng but senseless
clay;

And oTt! for my twa leal comrades, ance raalr at my side to see
And their croeaes. and a* sic havers, mlcht gang to the dell for me!

Robert Keid.

144

POEMS AND SOXGS

THE RIDERS OF THE PLAINS.

The following, written by F. H. Turnock. of Winnipeg, was sung
by Jackson Hanby. a well-known vocalist at the far well reception

fouth Afr^r ''"' '° '''" """"^ "'"• '° *'^ ^'•^'^^ ''^''""'^^ '-

From the veldt to the prairie flashed the cable-

"Britain's boys are by the burghers beaten back*
"We want scouts and rough-riders who are able

"Kruger's frontiersmen to traverse and to track"
From the West, to the Empire's call replying.

Rose the answer: ' To. the rifle and the reins,
"We are trained; and to send the Boers a-flylng,

"You can 'count upon the Riders of the Plains."

You can count upon the Riders of the Plains!
You can count upon the Riders of the Plains!

In the Empire's cause, for daring deeds undying.
You can count upon the Aiders of the Plains!

From the plains, from tne foot hills, from the mountains-
From the Red unto the Belly and the Bow;

From the ranche. from the homestead— burst the fountains
Of the patriotic eagerness tc go.

The Police of the prairies, true and steady;
Cowboys, trappers, scouts, and hardy pioneers;

Our Dragoons, for the conflict ever ready-
Rush in answer to the call for volunteers.

You can count upon the Riders of the Plains'
You can count upon the Riders of the Plains'

In the Empire's cause, for daring deeds undying
You can count upon the Riders of the Plains!

Lion-bold, and as stealthy as the tiger;

Swift as eagle, and unerring as the hawk
On the veldt, the Canadian rough-rider

Is the boy. the Boer, to baffle and to balk
A new page in the grand old Empire's story

We are writing; now we fight in its campaigns
That this page will be blazoned o'er with glory

You can count upon the Riders of the Plalks

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAX WAR.

STRATHCONA'S HORSE.
Dedicated to Lord Strathcona.

mane. "*"• "^ «a"a°t steed, ruffled thy tawny

But t.e^su..on. .at. eo.e wU. ro„ o, drum, and .u„es Hn«.n.

Fn.m eve^ land wJ J?eTe%ro^Srt .'^ ^'"'^"° '^'^^^ '-^

^^^_ ne cross-bar floats out from the quivering

faa sea! ^ '''^ trumpets blowing across

Sorrow! ' '"" ""'»• """la tep o( th, cup of

The great Red River of the Norfh h .v

sunmsr .tream. ""I""*!" »«. .na th, .hlmmertng

- -^ -. o.«. «r;rpr.'r.i.-rsj".'-

Sorrow! '^'*' '''^'"''s deep of the Cup of

Dr. William Henry Drummond. Montreal.

■Ti*ii*'

I'-'^^r; -13...

llfl

146

POEMS AND SONGS

SONS OF THE WEST.

far,

Sons of the West, ye come from
Roused by the bugle's note of war,
Leaving your mountain, vale and plain!
Welcome are ye, to our southern main.

Sons of our Queen at whose just call
Ready, aye ready, to stand or fall.
Proudly then charge, Strathcona Knights
For freedom demands the freeman's rights.

Sons of our land, our kith and kin
Honours from all are yours to win.
^ring then the laurels of de«.Js well done
Back to the plains of the setting sun.

Sons of the West, so strong to dare
Facing the far off battle's glare,
Wrong not the right but right the wrong
So shall your fame 'be heard in song.

Sons from the mountain's rocky dome.
Sons from the golden streamlet's home.
Sons from the forests, plains and hills
Tours be the noble deed that thrills.

Guardian of nations, hear our prayer,
Give to our sons Thy tenderest care.
Guide them in danger, living or dead.
Glory of victory over them shed.

Rev. H. Kittson, Ottawa.

THE MEN OP THE NORTH.

0, England, mother of seas and lands.

Tour strong men rule afar;
Where north seas hum to their glacial sands

At your utmost harbor bar.
They till and slay and they slay and till.

And they keep your Empire there —
No slaves are they of the mint and mill

But the sword as the plough they bear —

They are bone of your bone, O England!

JWt^^:

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

147

''*'witS*uL!ir"'*' "*"*' '*'^*" ^'^"^ *»>« Arctic bear.
With tlreleaa moose they've trod-

And bellyed the winds of God
They have made their beds in the hummocked snow
They have set their teeth to the Pole; '

aJT v^"'^ '"'''^ «'''°*'* "■ ^^r°^ ">«• throw
And drunk with him bowl for bowl!-

'i-ey are all for thee. O, England!

In their birch canoes they have run cloud-high "
On the crest of engulfing storm;

IVZI n?*^ '^' '^' ""* '"^^« «l™°k the sky.
And laughed at the Conqueror Worm

Z '"J" °°* ''*"*• ""•* ^•'^y '^ar oo man;
n«?>f''i'''* *™"*^ '"''^^ '^"^ P^t»»er glides;
On the edge of a mountain barbican

They have tracked where the reindeer hldes-
They are all for thee. O. England'

They have freed your Flag where

Hangs out its auroral flame-
Where the bones of your P«inklln's heroes are.

They have honored your lofty name
And, Iron In blood and sturdy In girth

They have stood for your title-deed'
Of the inlinlte North-and your lordly worth

And your pride and your ancient creed-
And for love of thee, o, England'

the white Pole-Stor

Gilbert Parker, London. Eng.

FAREWELL AT THE TRAIN,

Let the winds of the western prairies

Deep laden with frost and snow.
Shiver sharp, on the hard car windows.

With their swirl and bluster and blow-
Let them shriek round curves and corners.

And beat on the engine's head,
Sweeping the sparks like a banner proud.

O'er the heads of th3 Boys In Red.

"iydPJflW*-'

'i'lntv

s'i«i^.^.r.:. "3i?CMr.>. ^msr

Ilfl

148

POEMS AND SONGS

Let the eager throb of the engine

And the soldiers' hearts keep time;
Let the steadfast stroke of the piston,

Be the stroke of our boys at the line;
Let the hissing steam, as it struggles

To break from the fettering bar.
Foretell the might in battle

Of our Boys 'neath the Northern Star.

Let the cheers of a nation of brothers

Make strong the hearts of our brave;
Let the k.ss of a nation of sisters,

Smooth the pathway toward the grave.
Let the tears and prayers of mothers

Keep tender the hearts of sons;
And their fathers' strength, and their fathers' pride.

Hold u.em steadfast beneath the guns.

Good bye, Old Boys, Ood bless you,

The hearts of a nation cry;
May the Union Jack float 'o'er you,

Whether you live or die.
In life, stand fasi for the Homeland,

Far over the ocean's wave.
In death, wrapped close in Canada's flag.

Rest sweet In your unmarked grave.

Asa Ferry, Brandon, Man.

THE CHARGE OF STRATHCONA'S HORSE.

A bright sunbeam to me, is the theme of "Strathcona's Horse,"
All nations admire the noble Sire of "Strathcona's Horse,"
We'll sing his praise around the world.
Where e'er the British Flag's unfurl'd,

But, pity therefore, when 'gainst them are hurl'd, " Strathcona's
Horse."

Chorus.

Then hurrah for "Strathcona's Horse,"
That grand irresistible force.
No power on Land, can ever withstand
The "charKe." of otrathcona's Horse."

■-'AM> ■■ iot tmm-

ON THE 80UTH AFRICAN WAR.

14ft

The great Northwest gave freely her best to "Strathcona's Horse."
Her boundless plain could a million train, for " Strathcona's

Horse,"
We long'd to prove Fair Canada's worth.
To the greatest Empire on this earth,
So our cup of joy ran oer at the birth of "Strathcona's Horse."

Chorus.

Our "grand Old Man's" the Chief of the clan of "Strathcona's Horse-
That Patriot's tire doth fully inspire 'Strathcona's Horse "
Their Colonel too's a doughty "Chiel"
One never yet scared by man or dell,

While Ave hundred hearts are all true as Steel (e) in "Strathcona's
Horse."

Chorus.

Our Bobs did smile as he welcom'd the while, "Strathcona's Horse "

While Kruger and Steyn wish'd back again. "Strathcona's Horse'"

Canadian Boys had hit them sore.

So they ground their teeth, when they heard of more.

Such Lads as made them tremble before, in "Strathcona's Horse."

Drum Major Boyd, 5th Royal ScoU.

MEN OF THE NORTH.

Conquering nations all come from the north.

Fighters and lovers they ever go forth.

On land or on ocean of them it is said —

Odin and Thor are not sleeping or dead.

Give them a welcome befitting the brave —

Sons of the Empire from over the wave.

Blue-eyed, tawny-bearded, broad-shouldered and tall,
Here come the Northmen to answer the call.
Who can deny them ?
Who dare defy them?

Men of the North! You are welcome to all.

POEMS AND SONGS

With atrong engine stroke and white sails ouUpread.

Over the ocean In khaki and red,

From ends of the earth they come, as of yore,

Strong as their fathers they spring to the shore.

Warriors welcome from over the sea

Sons of the Empire, peerless and free.

Blue-eyed, tawny-bearded, broad-shouldered and UU,
Here come the Northmen to answer the call.
Who can deny them ?
Who dare defy them?

Hen of the North! You are welcome to all.

Not in defiance, because they are strong —

For freedom and Justice, right over wrong :

To show in the face of an envious world

That Britons are one, when their flag Is unfurled.

They come not for conquest, but boldly to save,

Canadian Northmen from over the wave.

Blue-eyed, tawny-bearded, broad-shouldered and Ull,
Here come the Northmen to answer the call.
Who can deny them ?
Who dare defy them?

Men of the North! You are wdcome to all.

Carroll Ryan, Montreal.

THE COLOURS OP THE FLAG.

What Is the blue on our flag, boys?

The waves of the boundless sea.
Where our vessels ride In their tameless pride

And the feet of the winds are free;
From the sun and smiles of the coral isles

To the ice of the South and North,
With dauntless tread through tempests dread

The guardian ships go forth.

What is the white on our flag, boys?

The honour of our land.
Which bums in our sight like a beacon light.

And stands while the hills shall stand;
Yea, dearer than fame Is our land's great r.ame.

And we fight wherever we be,
Foi the mothers and wives that pray for the lives

Of the brave hearts over tEie sea.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

161

What is the red on our flag, boys?

The blood of our heroes slain
On the burning sands in the wild waste lands

And the froth of the purple main;
And it cries to God from the crimsoned sod

And the crest of the waves outrolled
That He send us men to flght again

As our fathers fought of old.

We'll stand by the dear old flag, boys,

Whatever be said or done,
Though the shots come fast, as we face the blast.

And the foe be ten to one; —
Though our only reward be the thrust of a sword

And a bullet in heart or brain,
What matters one gone, if the flag float on

And Britain be Lord of the main?

Revd. Frederic^ George Scott, Quebec

THE VOICE OF THE EMPIRE. t

The trumpet note is uttered, the Union Jack unfurled-
Britannia's sons are marching from all corners of the world- '
Prom marts of far Australia, from India's mystic shrines, '
From New Zealand's distant islands, from Yukon's golden mines.

For far o'er wind swept prairies, and canons of the West

A call has rung that shakes the world, aud flres an Empire's breast

Ji!*r '^ 1°""^^ *"" ''*"'■'* "■ '"»" «"•'='»• ""•J '''^'^^- they come,"
Strathconas Horse has sprung to arms, at roll of British drum.

•The Eastern world has heard it, beneath its burning skies
And native warriors startled, up from languorous sleep, arise-
The Rajahs of the Indies, chiefs of their dusky hordes
Lay at the feet of Empire's seat, the homage of their' swords.

From ArcUc snows to Tropics, the call rings far and wide
Nought can resist its mighty spell, nothing our race divide
Through every vein of manhood, the Imperial impulse passed
And sent men rushing to the front, like leaves before the blast'

TOEMS AND SONGS

And Ksd, onr l,r.v« „a our b«t. to conquer or lo Jl.t
I. U the lu.1 ,>f p„,„ ,up„„,, „ ,^j „,

Would .t not crumble where It atood. and fall when battle lower,?

?hI"c[o"«5ro7lT "^ ""'f "" "'"' ^"'^ "^''^»"^« ""h Of .tee..
The cloud, of long oppression rend, and Liberty reveal.

Tr^e." Emplr^^race and rtrenKth. and help to .oul. op-
For theae we ^ve. without a sigh, our braveet and our best.
Give peace within our time. O Lord, but never let it be
ol^t^J ™? <»PP'^»o''. lust, and crime, reign with impunity.
On ! Jk f.r'' ^°"*""*'' "''^' °° ^^^iom'n noble span.
On a higher life In woman, and a nobler growth In man.

O.M.M.

THE ARCH OF FAREWELL.

fy.jy' ^'^h'""' ^'^^^ '° *'°°°'' o' *»»« Strathcona Horse when
they arrived in Montreal, on their way to South Africa.

Scarce had the chimes of midnight

In echoes died away,

Where in the wintry starlight,

A snow white city lay.

When the moon looked down and marvelled

As she paused In her stately march.

To see a wondrous work begun,

The building of the arch.

FYom Canadian forests deep and dark,

Of maple, birch and larch.

Great lordly pines their strong arms brought,

For the building of the arch.

To rear and span it straight and true.

The ax and mallet plied.

And ('eftly built and fashioned It,

With flanking turrets wide.

ON THE WHTH AFRICAN WAR.

1A8

Th« snow flakes from tae hill aide,
Like eifln maaona wrought,
Tranafoming It to marble white.
Prom cryatal quarrtea brought.
Over it all like Jewels.
Clear water ahowered and gleamed.
'Till underneath the dark, blue sky,
A fairy arch it seemed.

It rose in the morning sunlight.
With cross-barred flag unfurled;
The flag whose streaming pennant,
Circles the round, wide world.
From Arctic fields of midnight sun.
O'er Indian Jungles deep.
To Islea of spice in Southern
Its folds for freedom speak.

When wearied on the sun-dried veldt.

In the heat of the dusty march, /

The thought will come of the pine and snow.

That fashioned the farewell arch.

And of eyes that look toward the "Southern Cross "

Thro' the flrelit, frost rimed pane.

Under the gleam of the cold. " North Star,"

To welcome them back again;

When after the war is fought and won.

For Empire, flag and Queen,

They will homeward march thro' another arch.

Of laurel and evergreen.

Mrs. Mary W. Alloway, Montreal.

MATERNAL MUSINGS.

My sons go forth into the wilderness;

Prompt at the call, each bright-eyed wand'rer came.
Deeming his liome-life and Its labors less

Than this brave chance to strike in Freedom's name.

'iT'jTSS^,/**-

S'*'"- "MffSitr

POKMS AND 80N08

III

For this Canadian forMU luad unhewn;

Aititrallan Hocks without a ■h^Uerd •tray
And India', strand, with myriad gems b*strewn.

Glitters unwatch'd throughout the burning day.

Think ye, I feel no pride in love like this?

Or that my sober pulse leaps not again
To taMe at last the Mother's crowning bliss.—

A grateful brood, of such heroic strain?

My Gallant Boys, in whose Imperious eyes

Dreams of the noblest manhood proudly shine

Where'er ye go. the night of Slavery flies.
And Freedom's morning streams athwart the brine!

You have I borne beneath my happy heart.

Fed from my breast in varying hope and fear;
For you have bled, for you endur'd the smart.

Yea. toil'd and pray'd through many an anxious year.

Now, am I honor'd In the Nation's eyes;

For by your actions may all true men see.
The gift I gave, your manly IxMoms prize.

And fain would suare what they have drawn from me.

Be with them, Lord! until the end is won:
Shield them from peril, succor them in pain:

And. when the work. Thou gavest them is done,
Return them safely to their homes again!

Robert Ketd.

BADEN- POWELL.

One word of this weary war
All our hearts are waiting for.
Of the hero England bore.

Kind and gay;
The soul 80 calm, whate'er befalls it
For no peril yet appals it.
And his ceaseless toil, he calls it.

Holiday.

ox THE WJITH AFKICAN WAR

Half an endl«M year aso,
He waa left amidat the foa.
With lome thousand men or to.

Aa their chief.
Tor hti country'a arms ^j.

And acroaa the deaert a ..
Many a tedious noonday tarried

The relief.

But he knew hla maatera well;
And not fortune, nor Pall Mall,
That Is paven amooth aa Hell.

No man's word.
Truated he, but Ood who made him,
And the aoldlera that obeyed blm

Like hla aword.

"Lo, what pigmy band, at bay
On its ant-hill, ars our way?
These our guns shall sweep away

In a trice."
So the scornful Dutchmen vaunted;
But their braggart humour scanted.
When that gallant troop, undaunted

Foiled him thrice.

Came and went the Christmas feast,
Yet the fight nor stayed nor ceased.
Still the swarming foe increased;

Help delayed.
And the great siege guns came shelling
Spitfire fort and harmless dwelling,
Toung and old at random felling,

Man and maid.

See our English Greatheart then
How he moved among his men,
Gave each soul the strength of ten,

Cheered and fired!
Till the famine-stricken, meagre
Captives of that iron leaguer,

Hope-inspired.

166

POEMS AND 80NGS

So, all hearts are longing for
Tidings from the weary war.
Of the hero England bore.

Kind, and gay;
The soul so calm whateer befalls If
For no peril yet appals It,
In his country's cause he calls It

Holiday. . '

Howard Sydney Tylee, • London Spectator."

MAFEKINO.
Siege begun. October 12, 1899. Relleyed, May 17. 1900.

Through weary months of hopes and fears

The dreary cannon's steady knell
Has toll'd its summons In their ears.

Or pealed its clamorings of hell;
But spite of famine, blood and pain,

A spot of scariet. 'gainst the blue,
Serene above tl\p Iron rain,

The flag of BrlUin flew. ,

From every sheltering bush and tree

The deadly rifles ringed them round;
And far as level eye could see

The hostile trenches scarred the ground;
And close and closer still they drew.

Foe facing foe— «ye watching eye.
But ever o'er the combat flew

The BriUsh flag on high.

The burghers watched It day by day.

Alone above the leaguered town;
The badge of England far away.

And trained their guns to beat It down.
In vain the shrapnel shook the air;

As day by day the dawniuK fhone.
Its tattered folds renewed with care.

The BritUh flag flew on.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN- WAR

157

The flame leaped from the shell's red stnoke.

The blazing dwellings lit the sky,
The town was veiled In rolling smoke.

Which blotted out the sun on high.
"Look!" cried the foe. "the flagstaff falls."

The cannon's triumph shook the air;
That Inatant o'er the blackened walls

The flag again was there.

Then hunger Joined her with the foe,

And fever stretched her bony hand
To shake their strength with burnings slow

And sap their resolution grand.
Bach dawn they showed more gaunt and thin;

But courage shone In every eye —
A courage resolute to win

And keep the flag on high.

^''
"Now!" cried the burghers, "to the storm!

The plague-struck town Is won at length;
How lean and bent each soldier form;

The Briton \^ arms have lost their strength!"
And on they rushed with triumph-shout

And scaled the outworks — but to die

AnU rolling back in broken rout

Saw still the flag on high.

Oh, hearts grown sick with hope delayed!

Oh, men of Britain, not in vain.
Ye still have battled undismayed

And held like steel beneath the strain!
Wounds, danger, fever, watching, fast.

Despair and death— ye suffered all.
And kept, till rescue came at last.

The flag above the wall.

. Bertrand Shadwell, " Chicago Record."

BADEN-POWELL— COLONEL PLUMER.

We get a word of Buller, and little snips from French,
We hear of shells that bust a fort and rake a bloomin' trench;
But the man we want to hear of, what we've go to hear of, toa
la a little bloke called Plumer — Colonel Plumer — which is you.

158

POEMS AND SONGS

P..

I couldn't tell you why it te. but for the like, o' m-
Theresa a kind o- fancy feelln- for the chlp'they call B
And Uie only man In Africa to help him put It thro'
IS a little bloke called Plumer-Colonel p'luml^wh,eh la you.

Sa'aTudrrayrar-orthTh"^^ "'^ "^'^ -- -''•
So be aharp anr^ry^ bti.'^^ir away'f^^ r^^-
Put your foot Into the at.rrup. sha^; yo::''o^.::Z'lZn.Z7Z

tor the man you've got to sot at u o «,o. ■»"".

XT . .; - .c eui uj gei ai, 18 a man as mus'nt foii

There la a something In his spirit which Is different from the relt*
An it a no use my explainin'. but we llkee ole BadenTst

So hustle Mister Plumer. sUr your stumps, sir, make a more
It a a hundred days and over that he's had to s t and wair '
Oh you may have foea In front.and a lot o' things to shunt
But you've got to watch it careful, that you don'faSi^eTo!; late.

London Morning Post.

MAFBKINO.

The amalleat and the fartheat,— It ia well

At last the proudest record thou ahouldst bear

Bri^rH 'I" '^!f«««''-»^°^ ^I'en the long moons wear
By their delay, thy aUunchnesa we may tell
Prom England'a throat the endless shoutings swell
Such dawn has risen on her night of care
Such joy when with glad voice she may declare
Of her three leaguered atrongholda not one fell.

Oh, Mafeklng. from the wind-swept north-west
To that "la«t, loveliest" Island far apart
We watched and prayed for thee, we looked to thee
Th a lltta our pride up to ita topmost crest.
This was the thing lay cloaeat to our heart
We fling our love to thee across the sea.

Ellaabeth Carter, Clinton. N.T.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

159

THE ORDER OF THE SHAMROCK.

Dublin FusUeers— An Acroetic.

Her Majesty has been gracloualy pleased to order that on this
and succeeding St. Patrick's Days, her Irish soldiers shall wear the
Shamrock as a mark of the signal courage they have displayed In
South Africa, and that on her approaching visit to Ireland she will
accept a Battalion of Irish Guards.

Dear trefoil of Erin, growing close to tny breast,
Uplift thy sweet head to the strains we love best.
Brave sons of thy soil on their true hearts are pinning
Loved leaf of thine isle at the Sovereign's last bidding'
In combat they bled for their Queen in South Afric';
Now honoured are tuey with the badge of St. Patrick.

Forth from the castle, forth from the cot;

Ulster flash signals to Kerry and Cork!

South Arran to Dublin; speed, speed on the news!

Ireland's ag'd Sovereign her favour renews.

Let a regiment of guards from EWn be chosen."

England and Scotland have guarded her throne;

Erin, when trusted, as faithful has shown!

Ring out St. Paul's on the mom of the meeting;

Shandon's sweet chimes will respond to the greeting.

Mrs. Letitla McCord, Montreal.

THERE'S NOTHING TOO GOOD FOR THE IRISH!

There is nothing too good for the Irish these days.
When war is the pastime and all the world's gaze
Is turned on the men who are winning the praise-
There is nothing too good for the Irish.

From the boys of the city of Dublin to those
Who have gone to the war In less elegant clothes.
They are all of a piece, and the story still goes.
That tnere's nothing too good for the Irish.

And the Queen (Heaven bless her!), reviewing the war,
Has seen, though the English have garter and star.
That the Irish, untitled, fight better by far,
And are always and everywhere Iriah!

:',m\''fmff-«smi!k^.

^^W:

'«0

POEMS AND 80XGS
So the Shamrock, the emblem of Erin of oM
-r there. i^:?J-:----;,^^

For there 8 nothing too good for the Irish

fly.

«ev. J. R. Newell, Markdale. Ont.

THE WEARING OF THE GREEN.
(New Version),

Oh. Patrick dear, and did you hear
The : ewg that's going round'

The Shamrock la no more forbid
To grow on Irish ground

But raised with honor and renown
By OTder of the Queen

The army and tne navy now,
Are wearing of the green.

I met with General Buller,

And he took me by the hand.
3aylng-How are these for heroes bold

Who come from Erin's land
A telegram was handed me

This morning from the Queen-
She says-" They've won my heart and made

Me proud to wear the green.

And evM- on St. Patrick's Day, .

Wherever to the skies,
TrlumphanUy for liberty.

The flag of Britain flies,
There shall the harp and shamrock fly-

By all the nations seen—
To Irish valor Briteln owes

The wearing of the green.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

161

Not only did they beat the Dutch

Upon the wild Karoo
But Uhey have conquered English hearta

With courage high and true.
Then ever more when British men

Th«vM^"j'^* "^ ^*^« '^^ Queen,"
They 11 not forget Old Ireland and

The wearing of the green.

Carroll Ryan. Montreal.
St Patrick's Day, 1900.

CANADA HO! <-

Zn*l"'5*? '"*' '"" ^ °°^ '^e battles roar-
Spent shot and shell lie mating on the ground-

The sullen Boer recums to "Whence he came-

?he"Z ?''^"'* ""^ " '^^P'-*" crown-'"' '
The 'Black man's burdnnn" «..-»

The Southern CrossX tSl^ o'erT.^. °°*''" '°'^'^-
By wrong and tyranny whlS"Z^J,fJ^^' "°'''^*°
Ana P^edom's Sons ^.Tughr-c^ .rug'^rnaLe.
GO! with the mark, upon thy soul, of Caln-

s::r-r:hrifr^t^--i--
?o°:pS'?ouT°„i"tf"'* '" ^" ^""^^'--^ ^»--.

Wher^hJ 7 ^ ""^ "^^^ *° Northern shores
Warm h^^^^ and ZZ irjal'SS^l^ ''T' -"-
Acclaim the noble ProwL^o^ ^'war frson^r ''"=''°* ^"
And countless belfries ring triumphal rol^en chimes.
II

162

POEMS AND SONGS

Welcome! brave boys, who faced the battle-sheen;
Welcome! from lands for which your blood was shed:
Welcome! to laurels wove for every head.
Now "Home Sweet Home," for you uncounted thousands sing-
Flags proudly float o'er hill and dale, and pseans ring,
To greet our bronzed and faithful '• Soldiers of the Queen.'

Ah! yes; full well we ^now that tears flow down
O'er wan and saddened cheeks for those we miss;
For them no more awaits the raptured kiss.
Alas! that "Paths of glory lead but to the grave";
Still we, on bended knee, submissive hearU may crave.
And Joy that Maple leaves adorn Britannia's crown—.

Rev. Duncan Anderson, Monymusk, Que.

ON THE RETURN OF OUR TROOPS.

The seal set on our nationhood, are these

Strong men returning victors from the war;

Up to the battle's very front they bore
Our country's honour, till i^lth every breeze
Fame sang their valour round the seven seas.

For us, they braved death in the cannon's roar.

For us, their comrades died and nevermore
Will see the loved homes 'neath our maple trees.
Throw wide thy gates, O Canada, throw wide

The portals of thy gratitude; these men
Have roused the God in us. Now cast aside
All litUeness of aim. With courage high

And lofUer purpose, to thy tasks again.
And carve thine own Illustrious destiny.

Rev. F. O. Scott, Quebec.

YE BELLS OF PEACE.

Ring out, ring out ye bells of peace!

The war is done— the battles cease.

The flashing swm^ is sheathed once more,

Nor longer now shall cannon roai-;

But fields are drenched with humiui gore.

Ring out, ring out. ye bells of peace.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

163

Rejoice, rejoice, our kin are free.

On Afrlc'8 veldt* across the sea.

Not longer shall they make their moan.

And plead, and beg to obtain their own

To hearts that hate— the hearts of stone.

Rejoice, rejoice, our kin are free.

Ring out. ring out. ye Joyous bells,
Till ev'ry wind with your music swells.
PeaJ out the word from sea to sea,
"The Lion's brood shall e'er be free
Nor e'er shall bend the craven's knee."
Ring out ye bells, ye joyous bells.

Ring out ye bells in undertone,
With Joy is mingled mourner's moan;
For some of our brothers far away
Are stark and stiff as clod of clay.
Their blood is the price of peace we pay.
Ring out ye bells in an undertone.

Ring out ye bells, and herald the day.
When hate, and strife shall pass away,
May friend and roe now future face,
Knit each to other, one strong race
A common destiny bravely trace.
Ring out ye bells, and herald the day.

Rev. Andrew MacNab.

VIVE NOS CAMARADES!

Back from war's clanging and thunder and batUe.

Come our Sons of the Empire— welcome them proudly!
Back they are come, scarred and hardy from battle,

True Whelps of the Lion— cheer for them loudly! '
Blow, buglers, blow, as ye ne'er blew before!

Sound, buglers, sound, till the welkin is cracking.
For bromere who flght as the knights fought of yore.

Three cheers for young Canada's sons!
Cheers three for young Canada's guns;
Her soldiers bold, her hearts of gold.
Three cheers for young Canada's sons!

164

POEMS AND SONGS

On the long, weary marches, nor tardy, nor laggard,

'Neath a deadly hot gky have they labored and slaved;
Nor murmured, but trudged on though fainting and hi-ggard,
Ever onwards they tramped, and the wll'd torrenu braved.'
For the leaf of the Maple, their emblem held dear—

The North blood is strong; they went Beserk in battle-
In marching, in chxu-ging ne'er blenched In the rear.

Three cheers for young Canada's dead.
Cheers three for the brave lads who bled.
Her hearts of gold in mould that's cold.
Three cheers for young Canada's dead!

Loosen your war dogs, your four-decimal-sevens,
From ocean to ocean let Joy-shots resound!

Stream out your banners to float in the heavens
For sons of an Empire that girds the world round!

Paardeberg knew them, and Mafeking's sons.
Bravest of men since the days of Dulac,

Thanked their Ood, for the succor of Canada's guns.

Three cheers for the Pride of c^r Land,
Cheers three for our warrior band.
Our soldiers bold, our hearts of gold.
Three cheers for the Pride of our Land!

C. A. Botsford, Brigham, Que.

WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME AGAIN.

When the ship tJiat brings our soldiers home, slips by the harbor bar.
And the roar of peaceful cannon welcomes heroes from tne war.
Many thousand Joyous voices shall uplift the thrilling strain.
Of a nation's mighty welcome, when the boys come home again.

Mothers' hearts will beat wHh gladness, mothers' eyes will fill with

tears.
As they see their children's glory, as they hear the nation's cheers.
For a voice from either ocean, sweeping city, hill and plain,
Shall make the heavens tremble, when the boys come home again.

ox THE SOITII AFRICAN WAR.

lAA

Wive, will ,1ns a glad r-unlon, sweeter than the natlon-g pralw

And the hearu that In the battle, feared not death nor mortal pain.
Shall praise Ood. by HI. ;ne«=y. they are «aely home S^in

Lips so sweet, and eye. so tender, hearts as true as Heaven above

WarmTa^rr ""* '°'T •°^""' "''° "'^'^ '^^''^ '- "and andTe'
7Z? ''"'':^'"I»"' "^l*" """•«». voices Joined In love's refrain
Shall swell tl,e nation's welcome, when the boys come home again.

f "Ik*",*''..^''* ~°* triumphant, sob. a note of direst woe.
in .^f !S °' '""^ rejoicing, sorrow sighing, sighing low.

Sin /!„ or""" '"Z"'' *°'^ **"''°'' "°'°*'^« ^«" *>^ mourning train.
Will tell of one who sUyed behind, when the boys come home again.

!; lil r"J*T' !f ""* '°*^*'' •"" '•>"* «"«»« the vacant chair;
to the heart of wife or mother, only loads of grief and care-
For upon the fleld of battle, In the trenches of the slain
Some are left who reap their glory, e'er the boys come home again.

So some mothers will be weeping, when the nation cheere her brave-
Heart, of wives and maidens breaking. In some lone forgotten grave-
So a note of mortal sadnen sobs within the glorious Mrain
Of a nation's mighty welcome, when the boys come home again.

• • • • •

We have uelped thee Mother England, we have given thee our Mns.
And have left some dear one. lying dead with thine before the guns;
But we still have other children, from the mountain and the plain
Who would TOrve thee, dear old England, though they ne'er came
back again.

Am Ferry. Brandon. Man.

CANADA. MY COUNTRY.
•
Oh. the song that now comes ringing
From the Northland— broad and free.
Is a bonny one for singing,
And it. lilt come, down to me;
It is " Canada, My Country," —
How the homesick fancies turn
Where the Elm Tree flashes golden,
And the crimson Maples burn.

166

POEMS AND 80XG8

Hear the toMinc Plne-treea whlaper
Id the land Canadlana love,
Where the toil !■ free beneath lu.
And the ikiee are blue above;
And It'e "Canada, My Country t"—
I am oomlnc home to Thee,
Though the haU of Earth dtvlde us.
And the weary leagues of aea.

Where Atlantic surges shiver.
Where Pacinc billows swirl,
She Is set on Earth's gold circlet.
She— the Jewel— She— the Pearl,
And the Arctic Ocean guards her.
Ana the crashing icebergs frown,
And she at^w upon her prairies
With the Northllghta for a crown.
We can work— for You have taught ua;
We can live Life with the best,
For your calm, deep strength is in us—
We can die — at your behest;
And it's "Canada, My, Country!"
Though afar thy sons may roam.
There la not a heart but pulses
With the love of Thee— their Home.

Here— she holds the Inland sea-depths

In the hollow of her band.

There — the rustling corn la waving

O'er her rolling Western land.

Here the mountain heights are gleaming

With a glacier-armored breast.

And the valley lights are shining

Where the Homesteads lie at rest!

I am weary for your green woods —

I am thirsty for your streams —

For the cool air of the Northland

I am heartsick in my dreams;

Oh, it's "Canada. My Country!"—

I am coming home to Thee,

And my heart goes on before me

Over Earth and over Sea.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

low a tbouiand noble rlvera
Through her open portala aweep,
"Vlth a foamlnt. living thunder
Of "Deep calling unto Deep!"
Hear the votcea of the Foreat—
On the aturdjr Northern aod,
How a mighty, ruahlng murmur
Anewera back the WIsda of God!
They are calling me-My Country.
And It wanna my blood like wine.
For the life you nurted— la In me,
And the strength you gave-la mine;
And Ifa "Canada, My Country!"—
Oh, Beloved! Great! and Free!
A» the Son comes to the Mother-
I am coming home to Thee.

187

* or the Gold that fllla her mountains.
For the Gold that clothes her sod.
For the truer Gold of Hono^-
Let us raise the Hymn to God!
For the Loyal Hearts that guide her
On the pathway that aspires—
For a Country that is worthy
Of the banner of her Sires.
Oh the ?ong that now is ringing
Frwn the Northland, broad and free.
Is a bonny one for singing.
And its IIH comes down to me;
It is— "Canada, My Country!"—
How the full tones swell and grow.
For our heart's deep love is in them.
And the World shall hear and kr ,w.

M. H. B.. Sherbrooke, Que.

168

10EM8 AND tHiSUH

JOHN BDLL'8 BON VOYAOB.

Tlw following heartfelt poem In th. Cockney dialect appMred
n a Liverpool. Eng.. newspaper, at the time of th. .alllni oHom.
100 of our invalided «>ldle™ for their Canadian home;

"I'd 've you know Im proud of you
I like the bloomln' crowd of you,"

8ay« Mr. Bull.
"You're lean and ilck and sore and aad;
It waa a toughUh Job you had;
You Uckled It to ault your dad."

Saya Mr. Bull.

" 'Ere'e Juat a fl-pun note apiece,
To keep the wheela In uxle greaae,"

Says Mr. Bull.
" 'Tig but a trifle, meant to tell
You bullies that I like you well.
You stood so staunch, so brave you fell!"

Says Mr. Bull.

"A few of you Is left behind,

I 'ope you don't take that unkind,"

Says Mr. Bull.
"I lost some others Just as good.
By Mauser ball and poisoned food-
Forgive It? Yes, I thought you would!"

Says Mr. Bull.

"We thought we'ad the r«cord name
Before you youn« colonials came,"

Says Mr. Bull.
"But 111 allow, when flgbtln's 'ot.
And men are racln' to get shot,
By old St. George! you bet the lot!"

Says Mr. Bull.

"You've won my thanks and warmed my 'eart.
We'll nevermore be quite apart,"

Says Mr. Bull.
"My bloomln' eyes Is dim with tears,
Oh, 'ang It all! Let's give three cheers
For our Canadian volunteers!"

OS THE 84)l'TH AFRICAN' WAR.

109

THE HOME-COMINO.

Mother, ih&ll I cIom the •..uttere? for the toldler-ladi draw nigh
Think of how I love you. mother, whi'e the msrcblDc feet go by
Are they trampling o"er your heart, dr^r? Mother, mother, do not
ory!

Hide your face here on my Bhoulder. till the music dies away
(Jurt a year ago he left ua. and It aeema but yeaterday).
With what cheera the people greet them! Mother, try oh try to
pray!

Do not aob no wldly, -reat. or your heart will surely break.
He has suyed to P , he ountry that his valor helped to take.
With him is a ir;s;,tv aa'y tl.- ; -mains for England's sake.

A**! ^irT" "'" ''"''■ • ^ ' • " *' "^^^ t*** rtnglng cheer..
And I think p w..)Jr .n rdn^cr m. U eaven to-day appeara-
Tl* Ood'B Ir,.., ' r,:t, ,:.in.„ o-i Do ed women's tears.

You and I r.. «iad. , >a i m ,p :.,r t.e soldiers' safe return.
Olad for a ,h, hir-p^ i .j-ti ntont-s There the Area of welcome

burn.
Let us Join the meat ..i<iclt^. rj Qod's benediction earn.

Will that mualc pki ■ . .r. ..n his comrades marching by?
Oh. our darling! how we loved him. how we loved him. you and I'
Put your arms around me, mother. I muat weep or I will die.

Mrs. EBi9 I. Forster, Toronto.

THE RETURN OF THE ROYAL CANADIANS.

Ood-speed. my bonnle lads and brave.
To your glad homes across the wave.
An Empire's plaudits in your ears—
The echoes of a million cheers!

We know the gallant work you've done.
The bloody battles you have won
Against a stealthy, stubborn foe,
Who plotted BriUin's overthrow.

170

P0KM8 AND SONGS

land;

You'r« tnvttm from a great free

None better know or undenUnd

The precious worth of equal laws, ,

And how to shield a noble cause.'

Ood-spewl you then with faVrlng gsles
To bright Canadian hills and vales,
Where " See the conquering heroes come "
WUl be youp glorious welcome home!

P. Byrne, "Liverpool Dally Post.'

RETURN OP THE TROOPa

Canadian heroes halljng home.
War-worn and tempest smitten.

Who circled leagues of rolling foam.
To hold the earth for Britain;

Who faced her foes In battle's might.
Bach man a Brltlsji hero;

Earths freedom's latest Nero;

When rose War's red and angry wraith
Duty and death before you;

Our pledge to Empire of our faith.
You went and boldly bore you.

When late October, loath to die.

His wintry strain had sung us;
You klwed fond lips, and dauntlessly,

v»ent marching from among us.

You got your chance, in letters large.

You retold Britain's story;
At Paardeberg's Immortal charge.

You wrote our name In glory.

Till round the world the message ran,
To earth and all her Neros;

That Saxon, Celt. Canadian,
Old Britain's sons were heroes.

• s;;;as7/?53i

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

171

When Md November'! grief doth throw

His autumn weird upon ui,
You come returning with the glow

Of all the fame 'you've won ua.

We hear old Britain praise your name,

The voice of Empire calling;
And glory leaps up a« the flame,

Of red leavea lately falling;

Red aa that banner 'neath whose folds,

Par-famed In song and story,
Ton bore the brunt 'mid earth's strongholds

Old Britain's pride and glory.

r»r flies its flame on myriad seas.
The wide world's awe and wonder.

This flag of Britain's victories.

Whose folds our dead died under.

Yea, bear It proudly in your van.

For in Ita folds it gathers
The mighty memories, man to man.

Of all your mighty fathers.

Yea. guard It in your keeping close

Our Empire's "no surrender";
•Tls dyed with hero blood of those

Who battled to defend her.

But oh! the ones whose breasts are stilled.
Past all our strife and yearning;

Whose hero hearta in earth are hilled.
For whom is no returning;

For whom no morrow hath its birth.

Or chapter of life's story;
Who Bleep far off in alien earth.

Who died for Britain's glory.

Who heard the call an bravely rushed,
Where shot and shell were flaming;

We think of them, and hearta are hushed,
Am;i the wild acclaiming;

172

K)EM.« AND SOXGS

We think or them, tboae voiceless ones.

Whose absence speaks more loudly
Than all these gleaming ranks of guns

Of victors marching proudly.

We think of them, and up along

The miles of shouting madness.
The wild, glad surging jubilant throng.

A silence goes of sadness.

Yea, sadness, but exultantly;

For though In earth beneath us,
In far off alien gn.ves they lie,

Our dead go marching with us.

Far, far in London's mighty heart,

Vvnere life goes blindly thronging,
Leagues from the homes they loved, apart.

The land of all their longing.

In marbled columns, side by side,

Britain— the glory-giver.
With a-1 her mighty ^ead who died.

Will write their names forever;

Greet, with the great of victories won

From Waterloo's red lava.
To that famed line that thundered on

To death at Balaclava.

But here, in their own loving north

Vvhere maple leaves are falling.
And all the naUon's heart goes forth

Unto her great dead calling;

Her noble, and her gallant sons.

Beyond our mad to-morrow.
Will wait the last great matin guns.

Enshrined in our high sorrow.

Higher than storied shaft above.

Than gilded pomp's acclaiming,
Bnnobled in a people's love,

PMt all httx>ic naming.

W. Wilfrid Campbell. Ottawa.

ox THE J^OITH AFRK'V WAR

178

WELCOME HOME.

Soldlera of the Queen, thrice welcome.
Conquerora o'er Britain's foe,
With your deeds will future pages
Of Canadian History glow;

Heroes brave, your peril's over.
Strife and land and ocean foam
No more separate us sadly,
Welcome nsoldlers, welcome home.

We Illuminate our buildlnrs.
Ring out loud our city bells.
Glad trtumphant notes K^f welcome
Every swinging cadence tells.

Public welcome is their message,
But tha tender minor strain
Strilies the keynote of rejoicing,
Each home has iu own again.

Peal ye forth, ye bells of welcome,
But let softer music tell
Of the absent, who have perished
In the cause they loved so well;

Lonely graves of comrades, scattered 'neatli
The tropic's burning sun,
OenUy cover them with garlands
Made of laurels they have won.

Welcome home, thrice welcome soldiers
Saved from dangers in the war.
Right again triumphant, may you hear
The call to arms no more;

Brotherhood be universal,
Koise of war and tumult cease.
And the flag that 'ed to battle
Long float over us in peace.

Katherine A. Clark, Toronto,

174

POEMS AND SONGS

WHY GIVE THBM WELCOME?

Of what might have Imm«, have ye ever thought
Ye penuriouB cavllUn« onee'

How many a boy. once a foad mother'e Joy
Hto blood ebWng fast, lie. gasping his last
On his face on the veldt e'en to-day?

Had our lads been broken-thank God, they are whole-
Our «»rroWd been long and been deep.

'^d «r-.*?il.'^" "''' "«='' « '^^ ^'«' ot our soul.
Ana say. There s no cause thus to weep."

W on« of our own-yea bone of our bone

His sightless dear eyes upturned to the skies

l«y dead in the trenches to-day.

Ood, by His Mercy, doth bid us rejoice
For soon they'll be with us again

To the Utle of • Hero ■ to-day.

C. A. BoUford. Brlgham, Que.

THE QUEEN TO LORD ROBERTS.

What honours shall i to thee give, Lord Robert.

An earldom and coronet bright?

I have no son. gracious Lady

He sleeps In the Transvaal to-night!

T^t^^'ZlJT \ '° ""^ *'^«' "^"^ Ho'^rts.
A casue and fair broad lands ^

I have no need for such Queenly deed.

I have only obeyed tny commands'

What honours shall I to thee give. Lord Roberts
A eword set with jewels bright? "ooeris.

I have no more need of a warrior's blade
For shadows lengthen In eveniag shade!

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

175

What honoun. shall I to thee give. Ix^rd Roberts?

My court you may graoe to-night.

My gracious Queen. I prefer to remain. .

In my island home in your vaat domain!

What honours wilt thou accept. Lord RoberU'
It's the due of a warrior knight.
My reward is to know that thy sceptre bright.
Illumes the dark plains of the Transvaal to-night

TO lead willing men to that cherished haven
To loose the chains of despotic rule
And lay them in tribute at thy foot-stool I

Mrs. Letitia McCord, Montreal.

MINOLB WINE WITH TEARS.

When the bells their Joy are pealing;
When the air is rent with cheers;
When the burst of martial feeling
Welcomes home the volunteers;
When the minute-guns, replying.

Echoes, million- voiced, command;
When the glory-rag is flying;

And the tolors drape the land-
When the rockets, skywards ringing

Vein the blue of Heaven's dome-
And the martial music, changing

Beats the time of Home Sweet Home'-
When IS heard the thrilling story.

Tale of valor, past belief;
How they kept, undlmmed, the glory.

Of the dear old Maple Leaf-
When the thoughtless throng 'is making

Loud rejoicing, with one mind-
ThtaK of those. Whose hearts are breaking
For the loved ones left behind.

Chas. S. Edwards. Cumberland.

170

VOEMa AND 80X08

iriE LATE 8EARO. LATIMER.

I pauMd at my unflnlahed task,
Myself this question grave to ask;—
Shall SheSord's Latimer paw hence.
Without so poor a recompense,
As Just a rhyailng line or two.
Expressing sorrow, praises due?
I know our people's hearU are sore.
Grieving for him who comes no more;
And though the task for me la greet.
No longer can I silent wait,
For abler bards, whom I'd prefer.
Would sing the praise of Latimer.

A youth of pleasing form and face.
Destined to flU a soldier's place;—
To represent his "Battery," he'
Attended the "Queen's Jubilee,"
And when the call for uunners came.
He quickly handed In his name.
Although he knew the dangers great.
From marksmen good, in savage sute;
From fever's life destroying power.
From grievous accidents each hour.
He sailed away, without a fear.
Upon his martial, brief career.

Sudden, md flent- the night atUck.
The 'Boers were quickly driven back;
And there at "Fabres farm " they tell.
How Latimer, . bravely fighting, fell.
Alas! alas! So young and brave.
To find a lonely foreign grave.
Seven thousand milee, doth intervene.
The friend and that lone grave between.

Sweeps In airy circles high,
The Vulture, with the plerr'ng eye.
The scavenger of Afric's plain.
But well he see's 'twould be In vain
To strive to rend that manly breast,
That weeping comrades laid at rest;

' i

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN' WAR.

For guarded well, with plled-up itone..
Are LAtimer's heroic booet.
But, mourn we sadly, his demise.
So far way neath iroplc skies;
His youthful zeal now quenched for aye
His memory, bright with us shall stay
His parents. In the better land,
Await to uke him by the hand.
And welcoir-. him to deathless life
v,uere comes not sorrow, pain, or' strife.
While his last letters, plainly show
He heard a "call," knew he must go.
But spent no time in vain regret,
And every dangerous duty met.

Now prowls the desert lion near
That mound of earth, holds him so dear-
The ostrich courses o'er the plain.
Near him. we shall not see again-
Now skips the spring-bock oer his grave
The resting place of Shefford's brave
But ever shall that name appear
High on the list, of those held dwr

W. H. Cox. Oranby. Q.

OUR SOLulERS' RETURN.

Victorious from afar they come-

Thelr country', hope; the nation, shleld.-
The sons of Cac^tda come home

Prom bivouac and battlefield.

And while the Empire's annals tell

Of Roberts and of Wellington,
The fame our heroes won so well

Shall still live on,-«hall still live on.

And ft>r the dead the cypres waves

Her ttombre boughs in memory
Of those who ideep in nameless graves—

A glorious band— beyond the sea

178

I-OEMS A^D 80XGS

But where they /ell that tyranny

Might yIeM to rifht or banishment.
A nation's progreu hence shall be

Their everlasting monument!

Rev. J. R. Newell. Markdale. Ont.

WBLCOME.

Welcome to you. boys In red.
Welcome, noble lads, who bled
On that far off Afric shore,
Vvelcome to your homes again.
From the battle, thirst and pain;
Welcome gallant hearts once moic.

You have fought for Liberty;
Struggled that an Empire free,
Might give freedom to iu own.
Generations after you,
'Neath the red. the white, the blue.
They shall reap what you have sown

For the missing ones who rest.
Aaieep on Africa's broad breast,
We have naught but tears to give.
They have fought, and they have died
And their blood flowed like the tide
Ebbing fortJj that we might live.

Welcome gallant hearts and true.
We are more than proud of you'.
You have made an Empire strong;
For the blood stained steps you trod
For your country and your God
Saved the right and crushed the wrong.

J. HolJlster Wilson.

THE WEL.CO.ME.
Brave heroes of a true and loyal race

Canadians, rightful to the 'manor born '
We never can from memory efface

Your do9d8. for they will history adorn

ox THE .SOl'TII AFRICAN \VAI{.

170

Adorn ita pagea with a aignal tale

Of how you fought that Juatlce might prevail
Within the realm of Hrltalna empire form
And make her bulwirka proof 'gainat every atorm.

All Europe looked aakauce at Britaln'a plight;

Some would hnve gloUed In hei- fallen might;

Some apoke of AXrlra aa Britaln'a grave

Surged out of algbt aa If by tidal wave.

Then looked the colonies towarda the Islea,
Surrounded by the ocean'a thouaand amlles.
And flashed with lightning speed beneath the wave.
•We'll help the Empire and our Queen we'll gave';
And scarce the toscin' tolled the war alarm
When Bn.ain felt the help of your atrong arm.
Of how you fought, with what devotion pure.
For our loved Queen, that you might thus ensure.
Continuance of a bright and glorious reign—
A parallel to which we'd seek in vain—
Is noted in the book of Time.

Now with a thousand welcomes do we greet
Your preront coming home, for this 'tis meet.
That Victory's laurels should bedeck your brow
And let us flaunt our flags from stern to prow
Upon our vessels, and let cannon roar
And let the peal of bells above that soar.
For in their silver melody of tone
Some strains that wander higher all alone
Sing requiem for those never to return-
Brave boys! who sought their country's cause to earn.
For these tears have oeen shed with many a sigh
That they in far-off Africa should die.
But let the cannon boom, and fill the air
With Joyous songs, nor stint nor try to ^are,
But with a lavish and a generous hand
Bay, 'Welcome to your own— your native land.'

Rt. Cowan, Montreal.

hiKMS AM) SON(iK

THB nR8T CONTINOBNT.

Truroi Tribute to th. Woloome-Hom, of Kint Cntdl.n Cootln-
g*nt from Boutb Africa, October, 1900.

«J.'!I*!k'*?^.°**" *^" *" °" °' '»•• ^^ »»"" "•■ "»• "-om tb«
r^H "«• «»^«t«« MlM L. A. Edward., of thU town, and U a
handaom* W«loone IndMd. to our rsturnlnc haroM

The little booklet conuinlni td. Poem of .ix .laniaa. ha. aa a
frontl^lece the • Urer". Bridge." of Victoria Park. Truro; 1. em-
baioned with the town arm., and i. .urrounded with a border
neatly printed in red. white and blue.---Dally New."

It wa. preaented to each offlcer and man on their arrival in Truro.

A Mnc for the Firet Continent!

—Our heroe. from the war—;
WhoM daring deed, of valour

Have Munded near and far!
No ucond bidding did they need,

When the Empire needed men;
But at once they went.

—On duty bent-
Well might we honor them!

A wng for the Flret Contingent!

Who roughed It all the way.
But with heart Intent,

A. brave, they went
To the thickeat of the fray!

Nor Morned the .pade to dig the trench
But wielded It like men. '

Hurrah! for the Flr.t Contlcgent.
—Well might we honor them.

A cheer for the Fir.t Contingent!

Who brought old Cronje down
From the height oi hi. prntumption

To i„e foot of the BritLh throne!
Wuether with .word or bayonet.

Whether with .hovel or pick;
In dreauiul .tlence on they went

While the enemy*. .hoU fell thick!
Down OL their face, uat they fall

In obedience to command.
O Soldier, of our Canada.

You have honored your native land!

ON THK MOITII AFKKAN WAR.

Ill

A ilgh for th* Finit Contingent!

—tor tb« woundad In th* flgbt— ;.
For thoM who n«'«r may walk agala

With fonn ersct and light;
Whoa, light la dimmed, perchance .cr are,

Though thejr have reached again,
The loved ahoraa of their Canada,

lU mountalna. stream and glen!
A algh for thoae whoee health la gone

—That heritage of Qod— !
But bravely try to huah the sigh.

And bow beneath the rod!

A tear for the Flrat Contingent!

For thoae who flghting. fell;
Who yielded life in that awful atrife

With weapona— forged by hell; -^

Oh! aaoiy. aadly do we mourn

The loaa of the brave boy. gone-
Their young life fled, the echo dead

Comee back to the heart alone!
A tear for the eye whoae light haa paled-

For the step that will never return!
At their country*, voice— auch a aacriflce,

Makea our hearU within ua burn!

No flower, to wave o'er their lonely grave.

On Africa'a kopje', height.
No mother', tear to d op on the bier

Aa her boy waa borne from eight'

Telia the tale of duty done;
For each life, gone out

Mid that dreadful rout
la the crown of a hero wobI

Then Welcome? Brave Contingent!

Your welcome home aga'n
Reaounda throughout all Canada

From foreet, lake and plain!
To you. no akiea were half to fair

Aa your Canadian aklea!
Nor maiden-, orba one half m> bright

imI

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(ANSI and 'SO TEST CHART No. 2)

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(716) 4«2 - OMO - Phon.
(716) 28a - M89 - Fa,

182

i\»i:ms axj) .sox(is

As were Canadian eyes!
We know your hearts are true and leal

As when you went away;
And now, our joy at your return,

Is that you've come to stay!

Miss L. A. Edwards, Truro, N.S.

THE RETURN OP THE CONTINGENT.
Britannia.

Take them back, Canada;
Proudly receive them! '
Each gallant son of thine.
Bearing on head of Llm.
Wearing In heart of him
Britain's deep gratitude;
Heart's benediction
Of people and Queen.
Honor them mightily—
They who have honored you.
Honored the empire.
Honored our breed!
Fine decorum disdain,
Give your impulse the rein.
Fete them, and feast them.
And hero-wreaths weave them

Of oak leaves and maple leaves
Lovingly blended:

For by valor of theirs

Was Majuba jibe ended:

My blessing goes with them

Over the ocean;

-loner them splendidly.

Bate no emotion;

Honor them, Canada.

Fighters so splendid!

ox TlIJi .SOlTll AI'KKAN WAR.

183

Welcome them, Canada,

From battle triumphant,

From service unstinted

On kopje and veldt;

Faces brown-tinted

With the African sun,

And the toil and the strain

Of duty well done;

Peers of my chivalrous,

Famous old veterans

In soldierly valor.

Marching and skirmishing.

Scouting and charging.

Working the gun;

Take them back, Canada,

Hero each one;

On their khaki no stain;

Clasp their hands, comrades,

Receive them, compatriots.

Haggard, but glorious,

Over the sea to the home-hearth ajriin !

ni.

Keep their names, Canada,

Bright in your annals;

Through all our great empire

They're spoken right proudly.

And all the bright future

Shall know them and cherish them,

And progeny distant

Shall boast of the blood

Of the gallant contingents,

Of the men true and valliant

Who, first In all history,

Crossed the wide flood

For honor and liberty.

Order and nght.

Beside their world-kindred

To labor and fight;

And in victory to stand

Beneath the old flag

For the old motherland!

184

rOEMS AND SONGS

Canada.

IV.

Hall thee, Britannia.
Generous and hrave;
Mother of freedom,
Greeting we ?lve to thee
Over the wa,e;

The true sons we lent to thee,
Fighters we sent to thee,
Here, now, tumultuous.
We, welcome again.

Look thee, BrlUnnla,

Mark how we welcome, them;

Rank upon rank of us.

Mile upon mile;

Joyfully, proudly.

Tearfully, cheerfully.

Gently and loudly.

Hark! the drums rattling

Tell us they're coming;

Hushed now all prattling.

Something is clutching

The hearts in our boeoms;

Something is choking us; '

Faces are paling;

A thrill runs abroad—

Our souls are swept on

In the tempest of music.

Our hearts beat the time

To the rhythm of the marching;

Eyes fill and l.ps falter— •

They come! They are here!

A strange, creeping thrill

Holde us silent and awed;

Eyes that are dimmed

See the bronzed, passing forms.

And lips that are tremulous

Whisper, thank God!

ox THE SorXH AFRICAN WAR.

ISft

They are passing, are passing—

With stride swift and even.

And a swing multitudinous

Heel matched to heel.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Steel glinting to steel.

Then the spell ceases.

And the cheering and shouting

Ani tumult uproarious

Gives tongue -o our feelings.

Hark! dim in the distance,

A mile down the multitude.

It rises; it grows to a thunderous roar.

Like a tidal-wave breaking

And rolling and shaking

On an echoing shore!

VI.

But this, my Britannia,

Is more than mere pageant

Passing and vanishing;

This is historical.

Deep in our tablets.

High in our citadels,

The names of these heroes

We'll keep 'yond forgetting;

We'll hang in our temples

The colors they carried.

The banner of Britain,

With the wreath-circled beaver

In the glowing red field;

And upon it the blazon

Of names now immortal —

" Royal Canadian,"

" Dominion Artillery."

" Strathcona Horse,"

" Paardeburg," " Mafeking ';

Time in its course.

As the ages unfold,

Will dim not their splendor,

Nor tarnish their gold!

186

POKMS A.M. S(».N(is

VII.
With thee, Britannia,
Mourn we the absent ones,
Fallen in battle,
Or slain by the fevers;
These honor we tearfjlly
An proudly remember;
Nobly they fought for thee,
Nobly I. u-y died for thee;
We will remember them—
We will remember!

VIII.

Now that God's Providence,
Ruling and guiding.
Has given thee victory,
Glv'n thee dominion
O'er alien peoples— >
Now thou hast conquered,
O, valiant Britannia,
Canada pleads with thee,
Sword laid aside,
That bountiful clemency,
Generous leniency
(The victor's best pride)
May henceforth be shown
To the burghers overthrown.

J. W. Hengrough, Toronto.

THE DADDY OF THEM ALL.

There's a hearty old party lives beyond the northern sea
About as rough-about as tough-aa a party well can be-
Strong nerved, well preserved, handy with his hands; '
With n-uslc for a tussle to enforce what he commands;

TJ.I^ ^".^ ^^^- ^""^ * ^"''^ °^*'' ""'^ ^'^ habit s somewhat full-
Recording fame describes his name as Old John Bull.

Rough John, tough John, bluff John Bull
With both feet getting there, and both hands full-
His heart Is full of kindness with never a drop of gall-
And Old John Bull is the Daddy of them all

ON TIIK so 111 I am; KAN WAI.'.

1«7

Theres many a lad to call him dad, and take the old mans part
To share his fight and swell his might, and cheer his loving heart-
To bear his flag from cliff to crag, when the echoing bugles blow-
Ten thousand sons to man his guns, and thunder on the foe
From many a land from many a strand, they come to the fathers

call,
For Old John Bull is the Daddy of them all.

Rough John, tough John, bluff John Bull.

With a heap of human nature underneath his scanty wool—

The cheeriest, bravest, stoutest carl upon this earthly ball.

For Old John Bull is the Daddy of them all.

The waves that roll from pole to pole still carry him on his way
From the purple gleam of morning's beams to the golden close oi
day;

The heaving seas, the freshening breeze bear on his friendly slrps
The roar that fills the startled hills leaps from his cannon's lips •
The flags that fly to the bending sky are with his glory full—
They bear the name and tell the fame of glorious Old John Bull.

Rough John, tough John, bluff John Bull,

The man that carries his burden and the man that has a pull-

The march of empire thunders, where his martial footsteps fall'

For Old John Bull is the Daddy of them all.

Boston Sunday Journal.

THE MERCV OF THE MIGHTIFUL.

Under the above title Alfred Austin. Poet Laureate of England
contributes tnese verses to the "Independent:'

BEFORE.

No. not that they were weak, and we are strorg.

Nor to avenge imaginary slight

To England's lofty majesty and might.
Hymned round the world in many a sounding song.
From farm and forge she mustered martial throng-,

And sped her war shares through the waters white;

No, but to vindicate offended Right;
And bring to end insufferable wrong;
That on remotest shore where her renown

Wakes sluggish souls to strenuous discontent.

On her fair Flag should be nor stain nor rent.
No man to no man kneel nor grovel down.
But, all men wearing Freedom's kingly crown

Hope sUll might dawn on Darkest Continent

188

I'OK.MS AND SONGS

AFTER.
So to the Lord of the embattled host

Not unto us, praise and thanksgiving be.
Who made this L,ie vlceregent of the sea
And spread lu empery from coast to coast
Empire whose sole and not unworthy boast
Is to proclaim the fettered must be free
And firm as Fate enforcing that decree '
18 least avenging when victorious most
Therefore, since now wrong and rebellion cease
Let Wimpled Mercy heal the wounds of war'
Solace the heart and cicatrice the gear-
Let race with race commingle and Increase

And Concord's portals henceforth sUnd ajar
Guarded by Justice, Liberty and Peace.

ROSES aKtd maples.

?hrMrth ,'t '"^'°^' '"'' ^''"'1 «' Norman blood
Thy birthright's from the Conqueror

Through wars of roaes. white and red.

Whose wearers slumber with the dead-

To hold within thy keep,

Britannic peace

O'er land and deep.

What varied talos of glory won

By duty done;

Pair heritage whose mantle fell

O'er Boreal, Orient, Austral,

Coronet of oolonlee,

Oemw of that English race

Proclaiming to the world their privilege

Beneath the flag to claim their place

Then who shall dare to wredt It '

From that three-fold strong embrace?

ITtJ^T^'f" "**" "'"^'^ ^°* flo^^rs and birds
And twittering matins fill the woods.

The maples soft unfold their blushing buds-
The first with loving grace.
To welcome spring's sweet face-
Lancastrian rose is not more red
Than trembling tassels over head'

0.\ TilK SOlTii AFKK'.VN \VAK

169

As maple leaf in autumn scene

When frost brings out the crln,'«on sheen

Anu rainbow tints in evening slties

On nature's pallet blended.

Illumines the world, then dies;

When flowers droop

And birds sing vesper melodies.

So fallen comra s cast a light most holy

aL ^Tt "**'' '"^'"•■°"** ^'^'^ «^»'- anJ glory
And Windsor's towers resound

The nation's anthem swells around
Our Queen;

Then something on her lids is trembling seen

Whose color they enhance

At Paardeberg by sword and Ian re.

Returning through St. George's Gate

^iTZ T°' ''"^ "" ''^"'^fl^'d translate
_ Impale despotic wrong and hate

And tramp oppression out of home and state.-

Farewell to England

And to English cheer;

They wend their way

To homes most dear

Where York's fair ;oee is not more whhe "

Than our pencilled pines on snowy night

Mrs. Letltla M'Cord, Montreal.

A TRIBUTE TO REV. FATHER O'LEARY.
On his noble work of Christian love at Paardeberg
(By an Aunt of one of the Paardeberg heroes)
•Twas in the trenches Lewis fell
Let veterans tell the story

Jn t T*'' '^'^ "'•^^^ «>'"'-ades.
Marched straight to endless glory.

S. W.

190

I'OKMs .\Mt s<).\(;s

IN MEMORIAM.

..uirro/'re zi^T.-^zt :r;'oi.:r.r"; -■

Pafhfr"^^!" '^°'^"?I? '■'^'•«^>'"*° I'^'nK available at Ihe time Rev

Never waa holler requiem chanted.

Never sublimer oration,
Than those beautiful prayers beside that lone srave

From our hero, the pride of the nation.

What thinks he of creeds., whose creed is Chrlsfs love,

And vast as the Empire he's serving-
While true to his Master, hes true to ail men

And ever to duty unswerving.

The hero above, and the hero laid low

God sees them both there In their glory
And knows why the sadness and gladness unite

And why there are battlefields gory.

But sad are the hearts for the loved one there slain
As o'er the dear form they are bending,

ih.n f'"'"*""^/^'"'* '"«. 'or his country he gave
Then stepped Into glory unending.

O warrior, rest, though thy loved ones may weep
God s angels. His soldiers, will guard thee.

iJ,Z f°" ^^"^ '^^ ^^^^ «»>«» <»" thee to wake
Their Mak.r. and thine shall reward thee.

^"ft-fh^? °° "^^ "'•'"'• ^'"^ ^''^ '•^^erence the scene-
Rub the rust from old creeds, long so drearv

That has tarnished your lives, but iv~r o^e touched
The pure gold of good. Father O'Leary. '

Miss S. Wtlliamson. Qrenvllle. 0..e.

<».\ THK SoiTir .A lit K AN \V.\|{.

liM

FATHER OLEARYS RETfRN.
Brave Father OUary. so bold an' «o tender.

Safe baokT: '"' '°'^""'' ""^ '''"«"'- """ '--•
oare Dark to your coiintry. an' , iiv u„ f.„ i

To ™, . ,„„ .t„. „ ,;, ,„„;^, j',::,;."""

On ,ho voy.g, or „,.„!, „o ,„,„ ,„ „ ^^

No hero this war to our history has glven-

S-.rpasses yoursllf. humble servant iv heaven

in the deeds, that make hero-na.esVoHr 'a„- br-ght

"r r: Bruirvirhe^thr'^ ^-^ ■- --•

But ..s wid the loWnTeLoUo ' .^^e;er '"^^=
Dear Father O'Leary. Canadians g^eet you.

•Twaa yours no't to fight, tho' In many a oattI«

Your khaki-clad form wld the flirhl
No weapons you bore -mM M * ^™ "^^ *««°'-

T.O. „o --ti- - r-c"-:..

Tbl. you did Wld ' our t"" "«", ""-lea ao' .Ick;

-. y«.r ,.„ .u r^oC rir.ut'u';..

192

I'OKMS AND S<)X(i«

Th..n welcome your rJverlnce, .afe batk from your labora
Uo<l grant you a long life Iv comfort an' peace

May your name unite Catholic and ProtenUnt neighbora
In a mutual reipect that will never more cease.

J. W. Uengough, Toronto.

THE COMINQ OF THE ROSLYN CASTLE.

Out of the night, all silently she came,

And far above, the moon, a pure, pale flame.

Lighted her pathway, on the pathleiw sea;

While low upon the mast hung silently

The symbol of some sorrow. Far beneath

The waiting women watched with bated breath.

And in that awful moment anguish poured

On each while soul, and voiced Itself to God-

"Not mine! Not mine! 'Let It not be my own "

Wild, while th-y waited came the sad sea's moan

And then the i ame was whispered, and one life

lAy widowed of all love, and Joy and light

And one gay heart took up griefs lasting crow

But every woman's soul had suffered loss.

May Austin Low, Montreal.

SS. R08LYN CASTLE.

Halifax, N.S., January 9, 1901.

(With Lieutenant Sutton and Sergeant-Trumpeter ingiJa; twtli
died on the passage.)

The sky is diaped in mourning,

But the watchers could not tell

Why the dark, low clouds seemed wewping

FloaUng to the wind's low knell.

They could not see through the darkened glass

The '>nslgn as pall on the bier.

But they thought of the guns that were saved at Belfast

And that gallop out from Belr.

ox TIIK mnil AFKR'AX U'AK.

1U3

LlftPfl !■ now the sombre veil,
A tender fare revealed;
'Tie the gentle moon
8h«ddlnB »oft light down
On signal staff and cludel,
And hearte that are throbbing
Like oceans swell.

The harbour gained,

The anchor dropped,

Now loving hands are Interlocked,

Some cheer, some pray;

For Joy some weep.

That they should hear the voice

Which might to them again have never beeL,

More than a dream.

But what of her, whose only hope.

Like fragile boat Is tempeat torn,

Wrecked on the rocks— forlorn.

And what of him? Though on hla breast

Victoria Cross may never rigt,

Still this fiond hope has she

That now the victor's crown

On that loved brow will be

Through all eternity.

Another comrade —
Committed to the deep,—
The wind-like trumpet
Calllug wavee to weep
O'er him who often blew
The trumpet, ere the light renew.
May he at the last trumpet call
Enter the rest prepared for all!

Mrs. Letltia licCord, Montreal.

1.1

POEMS AND SONUS

TRUB NOBIUTY,

To Lords Mount-Stephen and Strathcona.

True Knights are Canada's Noble Lords,—

Though not upon tented fields
Were won, the honor environments

That martial prowess wields.
Not on the fields, where the wine of life

Is freely poured on the sod,
Where in passion of strife at fever heat.

Men's souls go forth to God.
Theirs— was the oonfliot of wide forecast—

Of burden-weighted brains—
Of well poised heroes of ready resource.
As they counted their gathering gains.
Held by firm resolve, mind struggling with mind.

With weariness, ceaseless unrest
Of hands of strength, of hopes deferred;

Cares that the day Infest
Like rapid tide on rock-bound beach

The waves of wealth flowed free;
The golden ore, like sunlight shone,

In rays of prosperity,—
Then did these Thinkers of generous thoughu,

Seek loftier work to do;
That weaker brethren, feeble in fight.

Might share in the victory, too.—
They quarried the stone, uprearing Towers

Where the ' Great Physician's ' name
Is the Holy pivot where Science and Love

Revolve In their purest fiame.
To Gratitude— with humid eyes,

Hymns blessings — nor chaunts in vain

Inscribe o'er the Gateway— that all may see-
Built — for solace of human pain.—
Oh! broad is the burr of the Scottish tongue

As it laudeth Sir Donald's name-
Not 'Soots, wha hae' striKes a prouder chord.

Though high is its deathless fame.—
Mmi of to-morrow, our Boys of to-day.

Will haU 'Strathcona' with pride—
But the auld Sir Donald! will linger still.
On our bonnie country's side.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

1»6

They 11 remember the calling, brave Lads from the West

Saddling and bridling their steeds.-
Chivalrously aiding the national cause.

In urgence of Empire needs.—
Oh! what are the cheers that In utterance die.

To the hlgh-souled esteem of a race
The coronets sparkllng-the titled accost-
To this citizen 'record of grace;'
The liberal devising of liberal things-
Is sealed In our Captain's decree —
That messenger's riding with energy's spur-

Rlde forth on a mission for Me '—
Ho«- luminous then-will be the Joy of the eye. ,

How rapturous— thrill of the heart-
When the halt 18 called by the Master's voic^

To those choosing His better part—
The task was stern that ye wrought my dons-
Yet by steadfast persistence won
Now measure extent in ripened results
For greatness of what ye have done.

Miss Caasie Fairbanks. Halifax. N.S.

Inscription to be placed on the Monument to be erected In ou«
bee m honor of tue Quebecers who fought inlouth iSr^a
Not by the power of Commerce. Art. or Pen.

Shall our great Empire sund; nor has it stood:
But by the noble deeds of noble men

Heroic lives, and Heroes' outpoured blood.

Rev. Frederick George Scott

ST. PATRICKS DAY. 1901.
The Shamrock to the Memory of the Queen.

" Quis Srimrabit."
Scarce yet a year
Since you smiled on my face.
And I nestled so rlose in thy tender embrace
Where I felt the pulsation of love
Growing stronger and longer—

190

POEMS AND SONGS

Till it burst from its prlBon fair,

Floating in weba of love in the air

Which enfolded each form,

Which inspired each heart.

And the cry of her people

Rolled on till It thundered.

In anthem — and sobbed out in prayer.

For they knew that her evening of life drew near!

The notes of the trumpets grew softer and sweeter

Because of the love in the air.

While each child voice re-echoed the prayer

God (q>are htjr, God spare her for many a year.

For did she not for me forego

The peerless blue of soft Italian skies.

Which light dark eyes.

The olive and the vine,

The shore where ever changing ceaseless wavelet vies

To chase the blue to green, the green to blue.

To beds of gold,

And then in rippling laughter lies

Languishing to be caught up to skies

In rays, tentacles of fierce sun of southern days.

But the weeping skies and the kindly eyes

And the gentler rays of my northern clime

Had wooed my lady to Erin's isle.

For sh« longed to honor my home of green

Ere the thread was spent in the spinning wheel.

But the summer has past.

And the cold wintry blast

Is crooning its tale

To the Banshee's wail.

For a loved one lost.

And that breast unidei- bridal lace

Is strangely silent.

As we look into space.

Her smile is hid from my face.

But the fragrance still floats on the air.

My only wish is to place me where

I may grow near her grave.

So her spirit on me may smile

As it hovers in night's cool shade.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

197

And ere the sun clones the starlit gates

And her spirit retreats,

It may be from me a leaf It will gather

To show our good Saint

That our hearts are still true

To his emblem Triune, ^

While they bow to the Father and Son

And worship the Holy One,—

Three In One.

" Quia ergo no» aepurabit a charilate ChrUiH"

Mrs. Letlt .. McCord.

LA REINE EST MORTE.

Mother of Mothers. Queen of Queens.

Ruler of Rulers, Lord of Lords;
War harreeta, but the Reaper gleans

A richer prize than Swords.

God help our England, for we stand
Orphaned of Her who made us one;

The Houour of the Fatherland,
Her Hope, Her Trust, Her siin.

Afar, where Summers bum and glow.

The subject Peoples of our race
Shall see their stricken Master go

With tears upon his face.

The Nation, at her dying, born

Shall weep beneath the Southern Cross.
And with her Mother-Country mourn

Irreparable loss.

The scattered Islands of Her Realm
Shall droop the emblem of Her sway

Through the laborious day.

And flashing lights shall signal far
Their tidings to the passing ships.

TO tell the sinking of Her Star,
Her sorrowful eclipse.

POEMS AND SONGS

Oh Mother Queen! God's honoured guest.
Who greatly welcomes those who bring'

Thy great credenUals; thine His rest!
Amen! God Save the King,

London Times.

QUEEN VICTORIA.

(Isle of Wight, 6.30 p.m.. January 22nd. 1901.)

Was ever silver cord

So tenderly unloosed by angel touch?

Or broken golden bowl,

Whose fragments lie in dust?

Yet the fountain of hei- love will flow

Though the pitcher may be broken.

Or the wheel refuse to go.

The doors are shut and the sound is low.

The heart of the nation is bowed in woe;

Strong men tremble.

And the sun U low.

Yet the sunlikht of her. love will shine

Prom the darkened ro<«n '

In that lonely isle.

Mrs. Letitia McCord.

RBGI>'

MORTUA.

Dead lies the mother of the British nation-
That noble woman, whom we called our Queen'

Words are too weak to offer a laudation
Of one. whose life with golden deeds, did teem.

Encircled by a canopy of sUte-
Reaping, iwdmerently, or love, or hate

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

199

Where do we find one on the royal eecutcheon.

Who BO fulfilled the duties of thta lire?
Whether m daughter, or as tender mother

BcUpaed by naught-gave by her role aa wife!

Surely God's earth could ne'er produce a traitor A
To one beloved in every clime and tongue;

Victoria, what plaudits could be greater
Than that to worlds unborn, thy praise be sung.

" Dead " did we say? She Is not dead but sieepeth!
O glorious rising on the resurrection day'

^A^\Z^°'::^'^^ •*""■ «"««»-"« 'ooWng Christ-ward.
And from the hear*, can "Abba Father" say.

Miss Lydla A. Edwards, Truro.

ON VICTORIA'S DEATH.

The nation's sorrow In an Empire's woe.

A people mourn a queen by death lald'low-
A Queen supreme In every gracious act.

In life's true grandeur power and gentle Uct~
Britannia's pride, respected of each foe

With unversal grief her praises flow.'

Time's noblest offspring. Uberty's bright star

w^, ^^*°'''^ ''^^^'^ *° «''»°' "»« British tar.
While soldiers conquered upon fields of blood

For her whose life resolve: "I will be good,"
She was a ruler such as ages never saw,

Ood was her guide, and Liberty her law.

Victoria's dead, as true nobility ere dies
Confln'd by dust, to-day, to-morrow flies.

To cheer the noble and direct the wise.
So from her grave a thousand virtuels rise

Like glorious phoenix on wings of flame '
While world wide Empire echoes to he'r name.

J. A. M. D„ Baddeck, N,l

too

POEMS AND SON(i8

OUR QUEEN.

We muat not weep while heads are bowed
In prayer around her royal shroud.
We must not weep though hearts are sore
That we shall see her face no more.

A nation proud is listening, still
To hear the world's o'erwhelming will
In praise of her, who though unseen
Yet reigns in love, a deathless Queen.

For in the humble cottage home

As -neath the lofty palace dome
Her spirit holds its loving sway.
And sorrow's night is changed to day.

Ring out, sweet bells, your clearest notes.
Your message o'er our sorrow floats.
No gloom must shroud her royal flame,
N weeping dim Victoria's name.

Sing, M.ming Star, thy songs of praise,
Flash through the world thy living rays

O Day that i ith no dying sun.

Our Queen a fadeless crown hath won.

Now on thy fair and royal pall,

O Mother Queen, no tears must fall.

But at thy feet we humbly place

Sweet memories wreathed in forms of grace.

Anon.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

201

VICTORIA REGNAT.

A life complete, in years, in might, in love;

As pure a life as human frailty

Allows to Adam's seed; a power for good,

Silent, unceasing, strong; a copy set

Full In the public gaze, to show the strength

Our fallen, sln-stalned nature may attain.

If we but hold our weak hands to receive

What trod longs to bestow— this is the gift

Ctod In His love gave England. Few e'er thought

How great the force that bound our Inmost hearu

With golden links of trusst loyalty

First to our noble Queen, and then through her

Unto the King of Kings, from whom she drew

The secret power that spread from rank to rank

Of all her subjects, widening out its rings

Of gracious Influence, until foreign lands

Felt its benign effect, and all the world

Was calmer, purer, better, for her life.

Nor Is the gift withdrawn; God's angel, Death,

Has only raised her to a higher sphere

Beyond detracting tongues and party rage.

Above the darkening mists of earth and Ume,

To make her bright example clearer still.

Mary M. SmHh.

VICTORIA THE GOOD.

K^^^^'^'Z ^''''*° Markham, Author of "The Man With the
?i^orla °° ''" announcement of the death of Queen

Hommage and hush of heart belong to death.

When at the door the dread one entereth.

The courteous departure of the soul

To seek its high imperishable goal

The still withdrawal of that Inward thing

That gives the shapen clay the aureole.

Sends ra all hearts the ancient wondering

ai>2

POEM8 AND SONGS

And ao a .tlllnett fall. acroM the day

AnJ l^^fh '"* K^"**" ^" """'«' "'<»« ihe crown.
And, with no heralds telling her renown.
HM gone the august unattended way-
Gone down the way where all of earth recede.
Leaving behind a fragrance of good deed..
A wreath of memoriea former green
Above her name, Mother and Friend and Queen.

Whatever fortune come, to shape evenU.
She carried In her heart the good Intent.
And surely, too, since that far fragrant hour
N„^K? "T '''* '°"^'" °' ^^^"^ ^">^^ no flower

Lo out Of these the golden Heaven proceed..
The memory of good deeds will ever stay
A lamp to light us on the darkened way.
A music to the ear on clamoring street.
A cooling well amid the noonday heat,

A reel of rest when quiet evening falls.

Greater than any king with wolfish hordes

Was thlB Queen-mother, gracious, gentle ood
A White fal, flower of Christian Womanhood '
Her banners felt the wind of every sea
And yet she held a wider realm In fee
The pure high kingdom of the womanly-
Peace to her spirit as the years Increase- •
Peace, fbr her last great passion was for peace.

O God Of nations, on the dark of things

Send down the white fire of the King of Kings

Until all rulers shall be lifted up

Send Wisdom upon nations and send dowJ
Sm« rL ' t'^' "^"""^ °' '^^ •^'■own.
Till love's heroic ages flower again

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR.

aos

ALBANI.

Albert Memorial Chapel.
Eve of the Interment at Frogmore. Only the Royal family were
present The monuments were literally covered with flowera. Al-
banl Btood among a cliwter of palms. "If ever singing came straight
from my heart It did then."

Softly the dim light falls

On each bowed head

Within the chapel walls,

And on each heart

The shadow of the cross Is shed.

And Britain's uncrowned King is grave.

While Germany's Imperial head

A crown of tenderness has won,

For he on filial wings

Sped to the chamber, wflere

The spirit in the lamp was burning low

Yet clear,

Before the unseen Hand

Had claimed it for the better land.

And Princes' tears express the common lot of man.

The bidden springs which sorrow finds and

To the surface brings

The wells of tender sympathy.

Thus Royal lives when pure.

And happily such is England's dower.

Draw from the hearts of men

That loyalty, that power.

Stronger than fleet.

Mightier than tower.

Its monuments as if by magic wand

Unsealed, yield up the sleeping dead

Transformed to mounds

Of flowers, fair offsprings of the ground.

Trophies of love from o'er the ocean's foam

And home, which Flora with

Her perfumed fingers strings

Binding each heart

Though far apart.

ao4

POEMH AND 80N08

S ftly the silver toae

PJoaU trembllnc like the rapids

Beside the singer's home

And floods the sacred nare

With wave of praise

Poured forth from Canada's fair heart.

Blending each note like flashing light,

Running the gamut to the zenith's height

Like northern light

Unfolding phantom robes, bright

Mantles which the angels bring

To wrap the sainu presented to their King.

Softly the singer pleads

•XJome unto Me and I will give you rest "

^our labours cease, your load lay down

Your sorrows now become^ a crown.

For has He not her soul redeemed

Leaving the frame a prey to greed

A Jewel In a worthier setting sealed

Whose eyes behold the Lamb of God revealed.

While we are mourning here

O'er casket made of clay

Which worms destroy

And mould decay.

While love's redeeming song

?!Z1 m ' "^'^ ^'^^ '^^""'^ °' 'he Living One
Then falling soft like downy snow.

On each bowed head.

And on each heart

A calm refreshing cool was shed.

The clustering palms

With victors' arms

Place a wreath on the singer's head.

'^he threnody has ceased
And a still small voice
Breathes PEACE.

Mrs. Letltia McCord.

ON THE SOUTH AFRICAN WAR

206

THE BIRTH OF THE NUNC DIMITTI8.

The QuMn'i Burial.

(On the Feitlval of the Preeentatlon in the Temple. February 2.

1901.)

She brines with trembling handa the fluttering dovw.

Unconacloua that their blood,

la type at Him Who Is and Waa,

Will purify the Mother of their God. aa mans and hers.

Pure birds, cooing their last low songs of love
To lull the Child that Is to be
The sacrifice for sin upon the tree.

She brings her slumbering Babe,
A holy light reflected on her face.
Presents Him to the Lord,
Strange thought, her Lord, our Lord,
The Lord of Temple and of Universe,
Presented to Himself. The Lord.
The Great High Prleat and Lord.

Led by the Spirit to the Temple came

Devout and Just, a record more desired than fame,

He, who for Israel's consolation waited.

Then to his bosom. Christ be presses.

Sweet ConsolaUon. in his anna he blesses.

His eyes Salvation see,

Israel is glorified.

His light doth make the Gentiles free.

Daughtw of Asher'B tribe, nourished on
Bread, rich with the fatted corn
Of lands that royal dainties yields.
Her heritage great age and purity,
Fed in the Temple of the God of Purity.

R)KMM AND iJONUg

I>ftuclit«r of Bnglftod— Queen f

0«*»t ««• and purity ware alao thin*.

Daughter of Bnglnnd— Queen!

The century'! guidtng star,

WhoM raya m our htghwaya,

Proceeding from thy throne.

On larael'a pillowed stone,

By waya of ciUee' din.

?![.-!!""'*'• '^^*** •»«"•• °' ••bortn* men
Guiding o-er tumbling wavea

The noble prow* that rule the aeaa

R^ecta thy name, Victoria.

By Benarea' mystic lore.

By Australasia's golden door.

By lotus bearing Nile, realm

Out of which the Child Christ came.

He fllled thy soul. He filled ^hy heart

A Temple meet

For thou didst choose the better part.

And now on this pure day

When Mary to the Temple came with rhw.* .

W» leave thee In His aJms!!.„d " '*** '° """''

"Lett^t aow thy servant depart in 'peace"

An4 weeping turn away.

Mrs. Letltla McCord.

MAORI LAMENT ON THE DEATH OP QUEEN VICTORIA.

rJeH.l^t^JJ, MZT'iS'tH""'} H? ''''' ^'"''- ••~«»"y
"lament." on the death of Sl^uln '^ ' ^°'°'»'^ " ' ^angl." or
might, if po«„ble. be laid Zto^mTl'. ^^'^ '"' ''^''''' t*"** "
ingly forwarded to Sir DlgSVmtn t>. *""• "^^^^ '^«'-

.ng." Of Which the followfn'g";; TTra'^lluor"-* '^^ ''' "--'-

irmZl: ^g^S womeT^nhTb^ T'""'^ "^ ^'"^ ''-^ -ha

with heaving chesta and^ou eJ'Ur Jl""'^ "^^ '**°^ "''

streaming eyes to heaven even th« nM^:; ^ '^ ''°°'*° "" *»>««••

«ave , even the children Join their walling to

ON THE SOITH AFHUAN WAR.

tbt Uuooutlon of th«lr MrenU for th. m^.i.

England', quar^r BuX T' T""" ™'^^ "^ "'"^ "«» «»'• *»

ever .een. the Maori knows that the tVtHbut.T ''""' *""

memory of hi. beloved SovereUfu is to t ansL h " ""'^ '° '''
Joyalty and never-dying affection »n\ *' unswerving

Edward VII wifh tl« ''"«<^"o° to her son and succcor K.ng

In forwarding this lament Mr Reevpn .ta*^^ .u * .. .

208

TOEMS AND 80N(J8

VtCTORIA— OUR BELOVED.

1837-1901.

'Tl« of our unbelief we call her dead,
Aa Christ called Lazarus dead who only slept ;

From h-man eyes is hid her gentle head-
Yet surely we may weep— for Jesus wept !

In very truth a Ruler great was she ;

And Briton's heart she held within her hand ;
Till all her People saw in ecstasy

Their country strengthen 'neath her strong command !

Of every heart she was the Mother-Queen—
Hers was the perfect Influence for good,

Which still shall be, as it has ever been.
Until the world is one vaat brotherhood !

And if she seem all answerless to lie
When some deep quesUon stirs the mind of SUte,

Within her life shall be a sure reply
FYom her who, taught of God, was good and great !

Miss Amy , Kingsland Pennington, Halifax.

ACROSTIC.

Queen Victoria.

Queen Victoria ! BeloveJ by hijjii and low,
United, one and all, we grieve for thee ;
Endowed with virtues, as thy people know,
Even now, though cruel Death hath set thee free
Nations will sigh— and all thy children weep for thee.

Victoria is thine— Life's battle fought and won ;
In happy youth beloved— As Queen and Wife
Clouds came too soon and shadowed, thy sweet life.
Thy gentle heart was broken— still thou liv'dst on,
On, to rule thy people by thy love, not fear,
Regina loved ! Could there be one more dear
In life as Queen ! though dead-thou speakest still.
Although thy Son is loved— He ne'er thy place can fill.

Mrs. Emma L. Borthwick, (Rlchey), Montreal.

'^.1%. ■■if^.'ir'

nf^'iAJi^TjiL- maii,Er'. ..SM^'jii.

INDEX.

America to England J7

A. New Power In the World. 32

A Pledge " ' ^q

Africa J J

A Prayer during Battle 47

A Woman's Thought 54

A Soldier's Treasure 55

A Tale of Two Centuries 73

A Song in Camp go

A Soldier's Wife i !"..."!.!!!!!.!.!!!!! ! 91

A Tribute , to General Symons 98

After the Battle of Spion Kop 108

At Health My .Lads '."'"' J93

^^ Bay ..!!;;;;;;;!;;!;;;;:; m

At Modder River J37

After Paardeberg } J3g

A Tribute to Father O'Leary " ' [ 190

Albani ' ] 203

A Maori Lament on the Death of Queen Victoria 206

Acrostic— Queen Victoria 208

Bound Yet FYee 23

Britannia's Piccaninny gj

Britannia Militans 65

Bugler Dunn jq3

Bobs " ". '......... 119

Britain's Lost Sons ! . ! 133

Baden-Powell jg4

Baden-Powell & Col. Plumer 157

Canadian Sons of Our Great E<mplre 28

Canada's Gift !!!!!!!!!!!!!" 31

Canada's Son's are Thy Sons ".. 35

Canada to the Bmpire 4j

Comfort ' ' ' ' 4g

Cry of the Broken Hearted "................ 56

Canada to Dufferin 113

Camping on "The Veldt" 135

Canada Ho! ,^,

^ iDl

Canada My Country jg-

'} mtv,-'J^^jm:sf;:, '^.ci-TT--

211

Death Song of The Boer

Deflanc* to the Foe .^

Dead by the Modder ....*." ,T„

14U

England-

England at War... „f

For Honor

Friendly Voice from Norway ,„

From Canada ,"

Farewell

From the T-^nchee '"

Farewell p. the Train 147

Father O'Lcwry's Return ••.••••.................... m

Good Bye

Gordons to the Front '"'" It

Glencoe

Glencoe ^^

General Lord Roberts '"

'. 121

Inflexible as Fate

Invocation . _

In War Time *^

Is War the Only Thing that .has no Good.ln It?. st

In Memoriam

In Memoriam ^^^

137

John Bull's "Bon Voyage" ,^o

• 168

Lines on the War

Ladysmith ,

La Relne est Morte lo.?

* ISri

McDonald's Sword

Mother England

Miles Reginae ........[......... l^

Men of the North

Maternal Musings ....[ ^'*'

Mafeking ^^^

Mafeklng ..'..' ^^^

Mingle Wine with Tean .'. Ill

175

-'^7l.^:i^3m^^..,

212

On Being Styled "Pro Boor"

Ode to Britanola ^*

Our Bit of "The Thin, Red Line"...... t!

Our Lads *•

Our Contingent ^'

Our Testament ..V. **

Our Slstera of Succor *^

Our Nuraea in, South Africa... ?J!

Our Boys "°

Our First Dead ^^

Our Dead ^^^

On the Return of Our Troops.. ,»?

Our Soldiers* Return ",

On Victoria's Death ....'.'.' JJ

Our Queen

200

Press Ye on Britons Brave

Paardeberg— South Africa ' „!

lo4

Queen Victoria

198

Return of the Troops

Roses and Maples t!^

Reglna est Mortua iqo

Spartan Mothers

Sunt Lacrymae Rerum

Sons of Britain . .

fit

Song of, the Canadian Legion o.

Sonnet by Swlnburn ,^

Son of Bobs

-1 23

Strathcona's Horse

Sons, of the West "^

S.S. Roslyn Castle ",

St. Patrick's Day ■.■■ t:.t

The Union Jack

The British Empire l

The Rally .'.'. °

The Briton T?

Trekking ......!!!!!!!

The Emblems of 1900 l.

The Voices ":

The Old Colors.- f:

- J5

■?^ -t^^M^'^

218

The Situation

The Volunteer ^^

ThU Canada of Ours ^'

The Canadian (a Toast) ^^

Transvaal Ho! ' ' ' ' ^*

To the Canadian Contingent........... ^*

To Arms— To Arms ..'.. ^'

The Empire's Battle Hymn *^

The Grey Mother ■**

The Children of the Blood... ...'.'."." ^^

The Voice of the Women ,of England f!

The British Wall ^^

The Lion's Whelps ^'

The Island Queen *^

The Soldier's Xmas Dream........ ^^

The Highland Soldier's Farewell. H

The March of the Highland Brigade !„

The Braes O'Doe °^

The Dirge of the Highland Brigade.. !?

The Highland Brigade at Magersfonteln . ll

The Highlanders Charge at Magersfonteln ..'.'" It

The Names of the Dead

The Link of Sympathy ***

The War's Results *^

The Contingent's Farewell ^^

The Battle of Glencoe. ^^

The Battle 95

The Victory ^^

'Twas an Irish Fight ^^

The Flag Unfurled .' ^^^

The Old Flag ' ^^*

The Relief of Ladysmlth... ^^^

To the Soldiers of the Flret Contingent." .' JJJ

The Women Who Walt

The Canadian Volunteers for 'south Alrica.' .■.■.■.■;: "J

The IrLu Trooper's Farewell ^^*

The Return from Douglas ^^^

The Soldier's Death ^^^

The Lost Hero "0

?L'n.H^^''^'' ^'^•^'^•^'^^'•^•R^^^^^^^ Ill

The Riders of the Plain... -^^^

The Men of the North...... ^**

The Charge of Strathcona's Hoibe "^

The Colors of the Flajr ^*^

150

w^e-^'^^i'imr^^w-mmtimBfmmft

214

The Voice of the Empire 161

The Arch of Farewell 152

The Order of the Shamrock 15j

There's Nothing too Good for .the Irish i5i»

The Wearing of the Green IgO

The Hcnne Ck>ming Igg

The . Queen to. Lord Roberts 174

The LAte Sergeant Latimer 176

The Welcome 17g

The First Contingent 18q

The Return of the Contingent i82

The Daddy of them All 187

The Mercy of the Mightlful Igg

The Coming of the Rosiyn Castle 192

True Nobility I94

The Birth of the "Nunc Dlmittla" ^05

Undisheartened ' ig

Vive no8 Camarades 163

Victoria Regnat 201

Victoria the Good 201

Victoria. Our Beloved 208

Waiting 16

Who's That Calling 24

War 33

While Our Soldiers are Dreaming of Home 38

What We Have We'll Hold 50

Whispers of War 57

War 66

Weep Ye O Mothers of Britain 84

Waggon Hill HO

Wauchop's Farewell to Edinburgh 12s

Well Dohe I35

When the Boys Come Home Again 164

Welcome Home •. 173

Why Give Them W<»lcome I74

Welcome 178

Ye Bells of Peace ,. . 162

'm-.-w j'KS"-~-».u~: B^rjsfnp K 'lara'

CONCLUDING REMARKS.

In finishing my labors (and let those who doubt so, do
the same work as I have done) I most again thank all
my contributors for their valuable assistance in their per-
mitting me by letter or interview to insert their poems
or songs in this anthology, and every one of them wishing
me success in the enterprise.

Many of the poems and songs have already b?en set to
music, and the world-wide reputation of many of the con-
tributors is a sufficient guarantee that the work (unique in
its contents) will be extensively purchased throughout the
Dominion and elsewhere.

Surely, when a volume contains contributions from such
a galaxy of foreign and domestic writers, it must prove a
success, for all give vent to the one and only universal
theme. The Old Flag, God Save the Queen, God Save the
King.

Once more thanking all, both contributors and sub-
scribers for their generous support, I make my Editorial
Bow, and subscribe myselt

Theirs Truly,

Rkv. J. Douglas Bobthwick, LL.D.

MONTRBAL,

May 15th, 1901

s«i-i-» .jmjn/T'' ,-t- ^iTxmi . j^ -

■STABLISHaD mrCOB 1853.

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(SUCCESSOR TO A. LAVALLEE.)
IMPORTER OF . .

Every Vanety of maslcal mstroiiieiits

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ESTABLISHED 1S69.

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