James B. Dollard
Made music round thy moated bastion, when The Vandal s and the Goth s invading lance Surged o er the border into beauteous France,
Bringing rude hordes from Northern steppe and fen!
And now, today, another menace nears;
Again a self-styled Caesar flings his host In wrath on thee, who, scorning futile fears,
Defies and brings to naught his bloody boast For, crowned a queen among her mighty peers
Verdun s high fame shall ring from coast to coast.
��H
��THE CONNAUGHT RANGER
E felt the stirring of the battle-thrill, And on a summer morning, ere the gorse Began to bloom, he took his faithful horse
And rode from his white cottage on the hill.
Down where the torrent passes by the mill, He paused and gazed a moment to its source, Then onward without swerving held his course,
The soldier-heart obeying his strong will.
He never saw again that cottage white, Nor saw the golden gorse in glory flow r ;
He died a hero in the heady fight,
But ere he died he had his god-like hour,
And far on Belgium s battle-field today
The trump of Fame is pealing o er his clay !
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