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From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down, Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crown!

For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws,
Her King is his leader, her Church is his cause;
His watchword is honour, his pay is renown,-

God strike with the Gallant that strikes for the Crown!

They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all
The roundheaded rebels of Westminster Hall;
But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town,
That the spears of the North have encircled the Crown.

There's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes;

There's Erin's high Ormond and Scotland's Montrose! Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown,

With the Barons of England that fight for the Crown?

Now joy to the crest of the brave Cavalier!
Be his banner unconquered, resistless his spear,
Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown
In a pledge to Fair England, her Church, and her Crown.

Sir Walter Scott.

On the Statue of King Charles I at Charing Cross

T

(1674)

HAT the First Charles does here in triumph ride,

See his son reign where he a martyr died,
And people pay that reverence as they pass,
(Which then he wanted!) to the sacred brass,
Is not the effect of gratitude alone,

To which we owe the statue and the stone;
But Heaven this lasting monument has wrought,
That mortals may eternally be taught
Rebellion, though successful, is but vain,
And kings so killed rise conquerors again.
This truth the royal image does proclaim,
Loud as the trumpet of surviving Fame.

Waller.

The Song of the Western Men

(1688)

[When Sir Jonathan Trelawney, one of the Seven Bishops, was committed to the Tower, the Cornish men rose, and marched towards London to compel his liberation.]

A

GOOD sword and a trusty hand!
A merry heart and true!

King James's men shall understand
What Cornish lads can do!

And have they fix'd the where and when?
And shall Trelawney die?

Here's twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!

Out spake their Captain brave and bold,
A merry wight was he:

"If London Tower were Michael's hold,
We'll set Trelawney free!"

"We'll cross the Tamar, land to land,
The Severn is no stay-

With 'one and all', and hand in hand,
And who shall bid us nay?

"And when we come to London Wall
A pleasant sight to view,

Come forth! Come forth, ye Cowards all,
Here's men as good as you!

"Trelawney he's in keep and hold,

Trelawney he may die;

But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold,

Will know the reason why!"

She said,

After Aughrim

(1691)

R. S. Hawker.

HE said, "They gave me of their best,
They lived, they gave their lives for me;
I tossed them to the howling waste,
And flung them to the foaming sea".

66

I never gave them aught, Not mine the power, if mine the will;

I let them starve, I let them bleed,

They bled and starved, and loved me still".

(B 838)

She said, "Ten times they fought for me,
Ten times they strove with might and main,
Ten times I saw them beaten down,
Ten times they rose, and fought again".

She said, "I stayed alone at home,
A dreary woman, grey and cold;
I never asked them how they fared,
Yet still they loved me as of old ".

She said, "I never called them sons,
I almost ceased to breathe their name,
Then caught it echoing down the wind,
Blown backward from the lips of Fame".

She said, "Not mine, not mine that fame;
Far over sea, far over land,

Cast forth like rubbish from my shores,
They won it yonder, sword in hand".

She said, "God knows they owe me nought,

I tossed them to the foaming sea,

I tossed them to the howling waste,
Yet still their love comes home to me".

Hon. Emily Lawless.

(B 838)

2

The Battle of Blenheim

(1704)

T was a summer evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done, And he, before his cottage door, Was sitting in the sun;

And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
That he, beside the rivulet,

In playing there had found;

She ran to ask what he had found,

That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,

"T is some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in my garden, for
There's many hereabout;
And often when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men ", said he, "Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 't was all about," Young Peterkin he cries,

And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes;

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