Painting of Maj-Gen Sir Isaac Brock Astride His Horse, Alfred by Brian Deines
Ye men of Canada !
Subjects with me of that Imperial Power
Whose liberties are marching round the earth :
I need not urge you now to follow me,
Though what befalls will try your stubborn faith
In the fierce fire and crucible of war.
I need not urge you, you have heard the voice
Of loyalty, and answered to its call.
Who has not read the insults of the foe—
The manifesto of his purposed crimes ?
That foe, whose poison-paint, false liberty,
Runs o’er his body politic and kills
Whilst seeming to adorn it, fronts us now !
Threats our poor Province to annihilate,
And should we find the red men by our side—
Poor injured souls, who but defend their own—
Calls back Extermination from its hell,
To stalk abroad, and stench your land with slaughter.
These are our weighty arguments of war,
Wherein armed Justice will enclasp its sword,
And sheath it in its bitter adversary ;
Wherein we’ll turn our bayonet-points to pens,
And write in blood :—Here lies the poor invader ;
Or be ourselves struck down by hailing death :
Made stepping stones for foes to walk upon—
The lifeless gangways to our country’s ruin.
For now we look not with the eye of fear ;
We reck not if this strange mechanic frame—
Stop in an instant in the shock of war.
Our death may build into our country’s life,
And failing this, ’twere bettor still to die
Than live the breathing spoils of infamy.
Then forward for our cause and Canada !
Forward for Britain’s Empire—peerless arch
Of Freedom’s raising, whose majestic span
Is axis to the world ! On, on, my friends !
The task our country sets must we perform—
Wring peace from war, or perish in its storm !
Source: George W. Ross (ed.) Patriotic Recitations and Arbor Day Exercises. Toronto : Warwick & Rutter, 1893.
100th Anniversary of the Battle of Lundy’s Lane Parade July 25, 1914 – Preparations at the corner of Main Street and Lundy’s Lane Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library
July it was, and the sun’s fierce heat
On road and meadow glistened and beat.
Glistened and beat till the hillside brown
Shrivelled and parched in its angry frown.
Till the dust lay white ‘neath the creaking wain,
And never a zephyr to promise the rain.
Backward from Queenston, backward for aye,
The hostile invaders had passed on their way.
While hot on their rear like a hound on the track,
By the way he retreated brave Riall came back.
By the way he retreated from Chippewa fight,
Outnumbered and beaten that terrible night.
And now where the ground softly slopes from the plain.
And the fragrance of orchards breathes o’er Lundy’s Lane,
At the point where it joins with the old Portage road,
His scanty battalions defiantly stood.
In front lay the foe ; to his challenge they come,
But behind hear the beat of the patriot drum !
For Drummond is marching that pitiless day.
And the feet of his soldiers are swift for the fray.
Undaunted by numbers, by odds undismayed,
“Form the line with the guns in the centre,” he said.
Six o’clock, and the sun as it sunk to its rest.
Like a circle of blood shot its glow from the West.
One instant its gleam on their battle ranks broke ;
The next it was lost in the batteries’ smoke.
And they grappled, they struggled, they fought and they fell,
‘Mid the flash of the bayonet, the hiss of the shell.
One to four ! they are Britons in blood and in bone,
And the land that they fight for they know is their own.
One to four ! shall they perish when wisdom says “Fly?”
On ! Forward like heroes ! for valor says ” Die.”
One to four ! and the twilight in horror shrinks down,
And over the dead casts her mantle of brown.
One to four ! and there fades the last glimmer of light,
And they fought hand to hand for the guns in the night.
And the flashes of flame shot their glare o’er the gloom,
And the cannons re-echoed the cataract’s boom.
And the smoke of their volleys strewn far o’er the plain
Seemed the ghosts of the fallen contending again.
Rose the moon, pallid orbed, her pale course to pursue,
Belated, reluctant, aghast at the view !
So their hands from the slaughter a moment they stay,
A moment they stand statue-like in its ray.
A moment of breathing—a moment—no more,
Then bellowed the cannons their grape as before.
Till the foe, horror-smitten at blood so out-poured,
Withdrew with the bayonet, withdrew with the sword.
So, baffled and vanquished, they sullenly fled,
And night and the victors kept watch with the dead.
Source: George W. Ross (ed.) Patriotic Recitations and Arbor Day Exercises. Toronto : Warwick & Rutter, 1893.
I have a plugin on the website to give various statistics about usage. I’ve noticed a couple of things this last week. When I look at the countries that people are visiting from, Ukraine, Russia, & Khazakhstan are in the top 10. There are usually just a handful of vistors that are not from Canada, the United States, or the United Kingdom.
Similarly, there are stats for the top referrers, usually topped by Google. This past week, however, the top referrer by far has been from McMaster University, although I can’t see from which department as you need login information to get any further in to their site. I know that sometimes my site is used in courses. I know, for example, that Niagara University has a course on Niagara Literature that uses the website, and also that the stats generally spike in September-October and again in January-February, coinciding with the beginning of academic terms.
Stats also spike when an individual who has a poem on the site is in the news. When Priscila Uppal, a well known poet and novelist died, I had about 1,200 hits on her poem Niagara Mermaids on the day her death was announced, and they stayed high for a few days afterwards.
So if you’re dropping in from McMaster or anywhere else, I’d love to hear how you are using the site. You can drop a note in the comments, or email at aporteus@niagarapoetry.ca.
John Newmark lives in St. Louis, Missouri with his wife and two children. An avid family historian, his 5th great grandfather, McGregory Vanevery, was one of the original settlers of Niagara, Ontario. He enjoys writing poetry about his ancestors, and the places they lived. Visit his website.
