And his broad-sword was swinging, Trumpet-loud. Then the blue Bullets flew, And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden Rifle-breath; And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared the iron six-pounder, Hurling death! Guy Humphreys McMaster [1829-1887] ON THE LOSS OF THE "ROYAL GEORGE" [AUGUST 29, 1782] TOLL for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, Down went the "Royal George," Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath; His fingers held the pen, With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, Full charged with England's thunder, But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. William Cowper [1731-1800] CREMONA [FEBRUARY 1, 1792] THE Grenadiers of Austria are proper men and tall; Ere the dawning of the day, And the morning saw them masters of Cremona. There's not a man to whisper, there's not a horse to neigh, Of the footmen of Lorraine and the riders of Duprés; They have crept up every street, In the market-place they meet, They are holding every vantage in Cremona. The Marshal Villeroy he has started from his bed; The Marshal Villeroy has no wig upon his head; "I have lost my men!" quoth he, "And my men they have lost me, And I sorely fear we both have lost Cremona.” Prince Eugène of Austria is in the market-place; For the Citadel is won, And the black and yellow flag floats o'er Cremona." Major Dan O'Mahony is in the barrack square, And just six hundred Irish lads are waiting for him there; Says he, "Come in your shirt, And you won't take any hurt, For the morning air is pleasant in Cremona." Major Dan O'Mahony is at the barrack gate, And just six hundred Irish lads will neither stay nor wait There's Dillon and there's Burke, And there'll be some bloody work Ere the Kaiserlics shall boast they hold Cremona. Major Dan O'Mahony has reached the river fort, "And if you will stand by me, Then it's glory to the man who takes Cremona!" Prince Eugène of Austria has frowns upon his face, To your countrymen, and say MacDonnell he has reined his mare beside the river dike, And he has tied the parley flag upon a sergeant's pike; Six companies were there From Limerick and Clare, The last of all the guardians of Cremona. "Now, Major Dan O'Mahony, give up the river gate, Or, Major Dan O'Mahony, you'll find it is too late; For when I gallop back 'Tis the signal for attack, And no quarter for the Irish in Cremona!" And Major Dan he laughed: "Faith, if what you say be true, And if they will not come until they hear again from you, Then there will be no attack, For you're never going back, And we'll keep you snug and safely in Cremona." All the weary day the German stormers came, And the river's running red, But they cannot win the gateway of Cremona. All the weary day, again, again, again, The horsemen of Duprés and the footmen of Lorraine, And the riders of the Rhine; It's a mighty price they're paying for Cremona. Time and time they came with the deep-mouthed German roar, Time and time they broke like the wave upon the shore; For better men were there From Limerick and Clare, And who will take the gateway of Cremona? Prince Eugène has watched, and he gnaws his nether lip; Prince Eugène has cursed as he saw his chances slip: "Call off! Call off!" he cried, "It is nearing eventide, And I fear our work is finished in Cremona." Says Wauchop to McAuliffe, "Their fire is growing slack." Says Major Dan O'Mahony, "It is their last attack; But who will stop the game While there's light to play the same, And to walk a short way with them from Cremona?" And so they snarl behind them, and beg them turn and come, They have taken Neuberg's standard, they have taken Diak's drum; And along the winding Po, Beard on shoulder, stern and slow, The Kaiserlics are riding from Cremona. Just two hundred Irish lads are shouting on the wall; For it's all the same to Pat If he pays his debt in Dublin or Cremona. Says General de Vaudray, "You've done a soldier's work! And every tongue in France shall talk of Dillon and of Burke! Ask what you will this day, And be it what it may, It is granted to the heroes of Cremona." "Why, then," says Dan O'Mahony, "one favor we entreat, We were called a little early, and our toilet's not complete. We've no quarrel with the shirt, But the breeches wouldn't hurt, For the evening air is chilly in Cremona." Arthur Conan Doyle [1859 CASABIANCA [BATTLE OF THE NILE, AUGUST, 1798] THE boy stood on the burning deck, Yet beautiful and bright he stood, A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form. The flames rolled on; he would not go That father, faint in death below, |