A Comrade. Let's have it, Bill; we ain't red Injuns,
As likes palaver.
Roaring Bill—
SONG.
| October blasts had strown the wreaths that erstwhile hung so
gay, Above the brows of Queenston Heights where we impatient lay; Niagara fretted at our feet, as chafing at his post, And impotence to turn the fleets that bore the aggressive host. And gray the dawn and cold the morn of Rensselaer's attack, But warm and true the hearts, though few, that leapt to beat him back. "On, Forth-ninth! On, volunteers! Give tongue, ye batteries twain!" Bold Dennis spake: the guns boomed forth, and down he rushed amain. [!-- Begin Page 55 --] They sink! They fly! They drop down stream.—Ah, too delusive sight! A long-abandoned path they find, and gain the wooded height. The batteries now must guard the shore—above, our struggle lies; But down they pour, like surging flood, that skill and strength defies. Down, down, they press us, inch by inch, beyond the village bound, And there, o'erwhelmed, but not o'ercome, we keep our sullen ground. Short time we stand. A ringing cheer proclaims our hero nigh; Our darling leader, noble Brock—hark to his gallant cry! "Follow me, boys!" the hero cries. We double to the wall— Waving his gleaming sword on high, he climbs, and follow all; Impetuous up the mountain side he strides in warlike glee, All heedless of the leaden hail that whistles from each tree: For on and up proud Victory lures—we touch her laurel crown— When by malign, deliberate aim the hero's stricken down. He falls! We fire, but ah, too late—the murderous work is done. No more that voice shall cheer us on, with "Vict'ry!" in its tone. He falls: nor word nor look may cheer young Jarvis' anxious quest; Among his stricken men he sinks, his hand but seeks his breast. O, Death, could none but him suffice thy cold, insatiate eye? Nor knewed'st thou how many there for him would gladly die! Nor lonely speeds the parting soul, nor lonely stands the bier— Two forms the bastion-tomb enfolds, two claim the soldier's tear. "Avenge the General!" was the cry. "AVENGE!" McDonell cries, And, leading madly up the Height, McDonell falls and dies. |
[Several of the men pass their hands over their eyes; MR. JARVIS goes to the open window, as if to observe something without.
An 8th man. A mournful ditty to a mournful tune,
Yet not unworthy of the heroic theme,
Nor of a soldier's heart.
Mr. Jarvis (in a low voice). Indeed, you're right.
I thank the singer for his memories,
Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest breath.
Fitzgibbon. I did not think there had been such a stroke
Of genius in the lad. (Another voice.) But who's this, now?
Second Cadet. It's young Jack Kelley, sir; he has a voice,
And emulates old Bill.
Jack Kelley (with the airs of an amateur.) Ugh! ugh! I'm hoarse.
[!-- Begin Page 56 --] Now mind the coal-box, byes, and sing it up.
"The Jolly Midshipman's" the tune.