"Brave Burnaby down! Wheresoever 'tis spoken
The news leaves the lips with a wistful regret
We picture that square in the desert, shocked, broken,
Yet packed with stout hearts, and impregnable yet
And there fell, at last, in close mêlée, the fighter
Who Death had so often affronted before;
One deemed he'd no dart for his valorous slighter
Who such a gay heart to the battle-front bore.
But alas! for the spear thrust that ended a story
Romantic as Roland's, as Lion-Heart's brief
Yet crowded with incident, gilded with glory
And crowned by a laurel that's verdant of leaf.
A latter-day Paladin, prone to adventure,
With little enough of the spirit that sways
The man of the market, the shop, the indenture!
Yet grief-drops will glitter on Burnaby's bays.
Fast friend as keen fighter, the strife glow preferring,
Yet cheery all round with his friends and his foes;
Content through a life-story short, yet soul-stirring
And happy, as doubtless he'd deem, in its close."
"Lifts its tall head and like a bully lies,"
"Then from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seem to rise,
As when the northern skies
Gleam In December."
"'Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye.
I feel my heart new opened. O how wretched
Is the poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is betwixt the smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have.'"
"'Me pascant olivae,
Me cichorea, levesque malvae,
Frui paratis, et valido mihi,
Latoe, dones, et, precor, integra
Cum----'"
"Me Parnassi deserta per ardua dulcis
Raptat amor: juvat ire jugis, qua nulla priorum
Castaliam molli divertitur orbita clivo."
"At our old pastimes in the hall
We gambol'd making vain pretence
Of gladness, With an awful sense
Of one mute Shadow watching all."
"Ho, my comrades! see the signal
Waving in the sky;
Reinforcements now appearing,
Victory is nigh!
'Hold the fort, for I am coming,'
Jesus signals still;
Wave the answer back to Heaven,
'By Thy grace we Will.'"
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him for brother Bendigo."
"Who of us death's awful road
In the coming year shall tread,
With Thy rod and staff, O God,
Comfort Thou his dying bed."