The Royals, Enniskillings and the Greys,
Richly deserve their country's warmest praise;
The prowess, chivalry, they did display,
Far, far exceeds my weak though willing lay.
The firm, intrepid courage of the Guards,
Claims Britain's praises, and her best rewards;
Steady, determined, persevering, true,
Nor shot, nor shells, nor flames, could them subdue.
The Highlanders-a bold and faithful race,
In every country and in every place-
Where e'er their daring standards are unfurl'd,
They gain the admiration of the world.
There lies brave Picton, of immortal fame,
His country's good and glory still his aim;
So promptly ay he did obey command,
He was emphatic stiled, the Chief's right hand.
On yonder field, once furrow'd by the plough,
The virtuous Ponsonby is lying low
Too soon, alas! he found a soldier's grave,
Too soon our hero perish'd with the brave.
Who would not mourn De Lancey's early fall,
One who enjoy'd the confidence of all;
Torn from the arms of true and virtuous love,
His fate the sympathetic heart must move.
See Curzon fly with speed across the plain,
With orders prompt unto yon gallant men;
A fatal bullet strikes his dauntless breast-
Praising his friend's address, he sinks to rest.
Heroic Cameron, to his country true,
At every step the plain with dead bestrews;
But to the power of fate he too must yield,
And close a glorious life upon that field.
And there too doth the brave Carmichael lie,
Who to good purpose did his time employ
In planning out this great eventful field,
Which Britain's fame on basis firm should build.
Tho'stretch'd all lifeless on the blood-dyed ground,
This plan, fit place! was near his cold heart found;
Nought can be added by the painter's art,
"Tis painted with the life's blood of his heart.
O could my muse emblazon high their name,
Who still do live t'enjoy an honest fame;
On me it lasting honour would confer,
I'd claim the bays-let them the laurels wear.
Our noble Chief! O, trump his virtues wideFlower of our country's chivalry and pride; His matchless powers so nicely balanced are, Vict'ry descending settles on his car.
A faithful friend, and firm supporter, still
He finds in modest, bold, undaunted Hill,
Whose zeal, whose valour all must sure approve,
As all his virtues must admire and love.
The gallant Uxbridge fully did display
His brilliant powers on that eventful day:
Cook, Maitland, Byng, Clinton, and Adam too,
Did for their country all that men could do.
Allen, Mitchel, Halkit, Kempt, and Pack,
Disdain'd upon the foe to turn their back:
Lambert, Somerset, Vivan, Vandeleur,
Did every thing to render victory sure.
Brave Saltoun, Home, and stern M'Donald true,
Not overwhelming numbers could subdue ;
They held the post entrusted to their care,
In spite of all the instruments of war.
In short each British soldier that was there,
Of gratitude deserves an ample share
From their admiring countrymen at large,
And ought to be maintain'd at public charge.
Ne'er let it be a stain upon our name,
That those brave heroes-gallant sons of fame-
Should be neglected, who subdued our foes,
And brought the war to a triumphant close.
See public spirit warm pervade the land,
Unbidden stretching out the lib'ral hand;
For whom can sympathy so well await,
As those who turn'd the battle from our gate?
The Monument does rise unto the sky,
Enshrining heroes and their prowess high;
But Britons, still to generous feelings true,
Claim lasting praise for thy Fund Waterloo.
The finest marble will in time decay,
And hardest brass must rust and waste away;
But grateful feelings ever will endure,
When sun and planets shine-revolve no more.
WRITTEN ON THE 18TH OF JUNE, 1816, BEING
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
AUSPICIOUS day! to Britons ever dear,
How thy return each patriot's heart must cheer! Unto thy sun all other suns must bow,
None shines so bright as that of Waterloo.
Emotions various agitate the soul,
Grief pungent, reason cannot yet control; Fond memory stirs afresh the bleeding wound,
Relief in tears is only to be found.
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