Ballads of Battle/1815-1915: One Hundred Years Ago Today
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1815-1915
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO TO-DAY
TO MY GRANDFATHER WHO FOUGHT AT WATERLOO
Affectionately Dedicated to
my Four Paternal Aunts.
Once more the unsheathed sword, once more the speeding shell;
Once more unleashing of the Hounds of Hell;
The Nations rage together, and again
The Kings are joined for battle on the plain;
Old Europe armed goes forth to smite and slay,
Just as a Hundred Years to-day!
Grandsire, whom I have never seen, nor held whose hand,
Nor heard whose voice—stentorian in command—
From some Valhalla of the British dead
Perchance thou watchest where our lines are spread:
Strengthen my hand; thy kinsman's heart inspire
With some spark of thy ancient martial fire—
May my steel be as keen, I pray,
As yours, a Hundred Years to-day!
Once more unleashing of the Hounds of Hell;
The Nations rage together, and again
The Kings are joined for battle on the plain;
Old Europe armed goes forth to smite and slay,
Just as a Hundred Years to-day!
Grandsire, whom I have never seen, nor held whose hand,
Nor heard whose voice—stentorian in command—
From some Valhalla of the British dead
Perchance thou watchest where our lines are spread:
Strengthen my hand; thy kinsman's heart inspire
With some spark of thy ancient martial fire—
May my steel be as keen, I pray,
As yours, a Hundred Years to-day!
Oft as a boy I strove to swing thy blade
From out the scabbard where it long had laid,
And fearful felt its edge—the notch, 'twas said,
Was compliment from a dead Chasseur's head—
And all day waged the mimic fight,
Waiting for Blucher—and nurse!—and night:
Thank God! and I see the children play
As I did—was it Yesterday?
From out the scabbard where it long had laid,
And fearful felt its edge—the notch, 'twas said,
Was compliment from a dead Chasseur's head—
And all day waged the mimic fight,
Waiting for Blucher—and nurse!—and night:
Thank God! and I see the children play
As I did—was it Yesterday?
I hear your guns growl on through Spain,
And then, I hear them once again
Take up the old terrific tune
Upon that far-off Eighteenth June—
Mine ears have learned the measure well
At Festubert and Neuve Chapelle—
Our friends, forth with us in this fray,
Were foes a Hundred Years to-day !
And then, I hear them once again
Take up the old terrific tune
Upon that far-off Eighteenth June—
Mine ears have learned the measure well
At Festubert and Neuve Chapelle—
Our friends, forth with us in this fray,
Were foes a Hundred Years to-day !
When you rode through this war-racked land
Didst ever, prithee, kiss a hand
To Jeanne, Yvonne, Marcelle, Marie—
Grand-dames of those wave hands to me?
Were girls as sportive and as gay?—
Didst have the heart to say them Nay?—
Was't easy parting with thy pay
A Hundred Years Ago to-day?
Didst ever, prithee, kiss a hand
To Jeanne, Yvonne, Marcelle, Marie—
Grand-dames of those wave hands to me?
Were girls as sportive and as gay?—
Didst have the heart to say them Nay?—
Was't easy parting with thy pay
A Hundred Years Ago to-day?
*****
Grandsire, whose good right hand is long since dust,
I hold the same true steel in sacred trust;
From some Valhalla of the British dead
Perchance thou watchest where our lines are spread;
Thou knewest whence should come the power
When dark the battle-clouds did lower—
May thy God be my shield and stay
As thine a Hundred Years to-day!
I hold the same true steel in sacred trust;
From some Valhalla of the British dead
Perchance thou watchest where our lines are spread;
Thou knewest whence should come the power
When dark the battle-clouds did lower—
May thy God be my shield and stay
As thine a Hundred Years to-day!
Flanders, 18th June, 1915.