Image courtesy of the Library of Congress.
The roll of the drum breaks the sleep of the morning,
….As it rocks back and forth in the dawning’s embrace,
And the bugle’s wild echoes sing widely the warning
….That the enemy’s hosts are approaching the place.
From their dreams spring the soldiers, alert for the greeting
….That foemen to foemen are eager to make,
And they grasp up their weapons in haste for the meeting
….Of bayonet with bayonet in thicket and brake.
Through field and through forest the columns advancing,
….Like foam-crested waves on a shore’s rocky head,
Come with flashing of bayonets and mettled steeds prancing,
….The ranks of the blue ‘gainst the ranks of the red.
Then suddenly rings out the musketry’s rattle,
….And thunders the tone of the cannon’s deep boom,
As fiercely they join in the tumult of battle,
….When many brave soldiers are sent to their doom.
Aloft on the breeze is the British flag flying,
….And round it the death-missives whistle and sing
A dirge for the soldiers, who proudly are dying—
….Are dying for freedom, for country and king.
There are veterans there who have fought the world over,
….Regardless of danger, disdainful of death,
And grimly they fall on the sere faded clover,
….And cheer for their king with their fast-failing breath.
There , too, in the carnage and tumult beside them
….Are those who came forth at young Canada’s call,
And though torment and danger and death may betide them,
….They will fight on to vict’ry, or fight till they fall.
They had answered the bugle’s sharp summons of warning,
….Those stout-hearted heroes, the York Pioneers,
And forth in the dusky gray dawn of the morning,
….Had marched to the conflict untrammelled by fears.
And now they are fighting for all they hold dearest,
….Their sweethearts and wives ,and the country they love :
As they think of the ones that their hearts hold the nearest,
….“Protect them !” they gasp to the Father above.
Oh , wilder and fiercer the conflict is growing,
….And sorely the ranks of the red are oppressed,
And fast is the flood of the crimson tide flowing,
….That is draining the lives of the bravest and best !
Can nothing be done to save from disaster
….The resolute men of that brave little band ?
Ah ! who is this coming up , faster and faster,
….Erect in the saddle, his sword in his hand ?
List, list to the cheer that rings high through the forest,
….And list to the tidings that run down the line :
“It is Brock who has come when our need is the sorest !
….At the flash of his sword vict’ry ever will shine.”
With a shout on his lip he leaps into the battle,
….Unheedful of dangers, unconscious of fears,
And his voice rings aloud o’er the musketry’s rattle :
….“Push on to the front the brave York Volunteers !”
He pauses, he staggers, his life blood is flowing !
….Pale, pale grow his features—he’s gasping for breath !
And seething with fury his soldiers are throwing
….Themselves on the foemen, avenging his death.
They chase the invaders, they hurl them before them,
….They sweep o’er the field with victorious tread,
Then they lower the flag that sadly droops o’er them,
….And wrap it with reverence over the dead.
Sad, sad are the souls of the men gathered round him—
….Not triumph but sorrow possesses each breast—
For bravest and noblest of men had they found him.
….He led them to glory, but now he’s at rest.
He’s at rest, but forever the fame of his story
….Will shine on our annals untainted by time,
And ever will glitter the star of his glory,
….Who fell at his post in his bright golden prime.
Source: Charles Edwin Jakeway. The Lion and the Lilies: A Tale of the Conquest and Other Poems. Toronto: William Briggs, 1897
The death notice of Charles Edwin Jakeway published in the Barrie Examiner March 8, 1906 from Find a Grave
Read about the Battle of Queenston Heights