tucker lundys lane

(Suggested by the burial, October 17th, 1891, of the remains of
some of the British forces who fought in this memorable battle.)

Three-quarters of a century
Have passed away like snow,
Since Drummond and Riall stood firm
And fought the furious foe;
When round our gallant fellows
The bullets hissed like rain,
And heaped with dead and dying men
The field of Lundy‘s Lane.

The twilight of the summer eve
Was hovering in the sky,
When rose upon the listening air
The British battle-cry;
Then through the trembling heavens surged
The roar of giant strife,
For thrice two thousand armed men
Were battling there for life.
Yet still above that fearful din
Of battle‘s mad career
Was heard from throbbing British throats
The British battle cheer.

All through that night till midnight‘s hour
Was on Time‘s trembling lip,
Our gallant fellows at the cup
Of bitter death did sip.
They cared not if each moment drained
The drops of faltering life,
They fought for home and native land,
For mother, child and wife.
Not theirs the fight for conquest,
Not theirs the fight for gold,
But theirs the fight for freedom‘s right
Their fathers gained of old.

Thus with stern hearts and steady hands
They marched into the fray,
And there our bloodiest battle
Was fought and won that day.
Bloodiest! aye, six thousand men
At dusk stood on the field:
Two thousand dead or dying fell
Before the day was sealed.
Yes, o‘er their grave let banners wave,
Let trumpets moan their funeral note;
God in His might looked down that night —
Looked, and the wrong he smote.

They fought for home and native land,
For mother, child and wife,
And recked not if each moment drained
The dregs of faltering life.
They fought for home and native land,
They held the foe at bay;
They fell, but though they fell, they stand
In honor‘s ranks today.
They gave their blood to save the flag,
To keep the land from shame;
To God be praise for victory,
To them eternal fame!

And though we hope that ne‘er again
Such strife may shake our land,
But pray these sister nations may
Give each a friendly hand;
Yet while one drop of British blood
Swells a Canadian vein,
Our hearts must thrill when we recall
The fight of Lundy‘s Lane.

Source: Kevin McCabe, ed. The Poetry of Old Niagara. St. Catharines, Ont.: Blarney Stone Books, 1999.

Originally published: James Alexander Tucker. Poems. Toronto: Briggs, 1904.

Biographical notes on James Alexander Tucker by Arthur Stringer, published in Tucker’s Poems.

Click to see more poems about the Battle of Lundy’s Lane and other Poems of the War of 1812 in Niagara

moberly
In Lundy‘s Lane the robins sing,
‡‡And blackbirds pipe their merry lay,
The sparrow flits on restless wing,
‡‡The air is sweet with new mown hay.

O‘er the grassy mound by the old church wall
‡‡The summer breezes gently stray,
They stir the leaves of the maples tall,
‡‡And mingle with the sunbeams‘ play.

‘Tis a scene of peace and beauty fair,
‡‡That greets the happy passer-by,
As he breathes the balmy summer air,
‡‡And gladly looks on earth and sky.

But o‘er this fair and peaceful scene
‡‡One hundred years have come and gone,
And where the grass grows rich and green
‡‡The dead lay thick with faces wan.

Up from the mighty river‘s gorge
‡‡In serried ranks the foeman came,
The air grew murky as a forge,
‡‡With cannon smoke and musket flame.

Outnumbered nearly two to one,
‡‡The gallant Drummond stood at bay,
Undaunted he — and with him none —
‡‡Unworthy of that glorious day.

For loyal sons of loyal sires,
‡‡They fought for home and motherland;
No purer love the heart inspires
‡‡Than glow‘d within that patriot band.

Now hast‘ning up the river bank,
‡‡Cheered on by Scott at Brown‘s command,
The foemen form, and rank on rank,
‡‡A threatening army they expand.

The word is given — then, on they rush,
‡‡‘Mid cannon roar and musket flame,
Like avalanche‘s fearful crush,
‡‡Ah! What can balk their deadly aim?

But hark! a rousing British cheer!
‡‡Cheer such as thrill‘d at Waterloo —
The cheer of men who know no fear
‡‡Save to be recreant or untrue. Continue reading “Lundy’s Lane — 1814-1914 (July 25) by T. E. Moberly” →