Carmen Bellicosum
In their ragged regimentals
Stood the old Continentals,
Yielding not,
When the grenadiers were lunging,
And like hail fell the plunging
Cannon shot;
When the files
Of the isles,
From their smoky night encampment, bore the banner of the rampant
Unicorn,
And grummer, grummer, grummer, roll’d the roll of the drummer,
Through the morn!
Then with eyes to the front all,
And guns horizontal,
Stood our sires;
And the balls whistled deadly,
And in streams flashing redly
Blazed the fires;
As the roar
On the shore,
Swept the strong battle-breakers o’er the green sodded acres
Of the plain;
And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder,
Cracking amain!
Now like smiths at their forges
Worked the red Saint George’s
Cannoniers,
And the “villainous saltpetre”
Rung a fierce, discordant metre
’Round their ears;
As the swift
Storm-drift,
With hot, sweeping anger, came the Horse Guards’ clangor
On our flanks;
And higher, higher, higher, burned the old-fashioned fire
Through the ranks!
Then the old-fashioned Colonel
Galloped through the white infernal
Powder cloud;
His broad-sword was swinging,
And his brazen throat was ringing
Trumpet loud;
Then the blue
Bullets flew,
And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden
Rifle-breath;
And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared our iron six-pounder,
Hurling death!
Guy Humphreys McMaster.