THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH
In deep suspense we waited, fear with hope
Contending and commingling in our souls,
Striving in vain to read fate's horoscope,
Or weigh the forces which the event controls:
More and more sombre grew our spirits, while
Defeat with grim persistence dogged our arms,
And we, so apt in danger's face to smile,
Were shaken by a thousand false alarms.
Could it be true? Had fate at last relented,
And crowned once more our efforts with success?
Thus warring passions in our minds fermented,
Till full assurance came to calm and bless.
Once more we breathe! Our arm is mighty yet—
Not now shall Britain's sun in darkness set!
Contending and commingling in our souls,
Striving in vain to read fate's horoscope,
Or weigh the forces which the event controls:
More and more sombre grew our spirits, while
Defeat with grim persistence dogged our arms,
And we, so apt in danger's face to smile,
Were shaken by a thousand false alarms.
Could it be true? Had fate at last relented,
And crowned once more our efforts with success?
Thus warring passions in our minds fermented,
Till full assurance came to calm and bless.
Once more we breathe! Our arm is mighty yet—
Not now shall Britain's sun in darkness set!
HOMAGE TO A FOE
De Wet! we own thee for a doughty foe
In whose red blood no craven drop has place,
Whose courage in defeat doth greater grow,
Fearing no evil but submission base.
Adversity has tried thee as by fire,
And proved thy mettle to be sterling gold,
And we, the while we suffer, must admire
A spirit formed in such heroic mould.
'Tis our misfortune that with men like thee
An evil fate has forced us to contend;
Brothers in aims and arms we ought to be,
And then the world against us could not bend
Or break us, but should give us service meek—
Ah why our valour on each other wreak!
In whose red blood no craven drop has place,
Whose courage in defeat doth greater grow,
Fearing no evil but submission base.
Adversity has tried thee as by fire,
And proved thy mettle to be sterling gold,
And we, the while we suffer, must admire
A spirit formed in such heroic mould.
'Tis our misfortune that with men like thee
An evil fate has forced us to contend;
Brothers in aims and arms we ought to be,
And then the world against us could not bend
Or break us, but should give us service meek—
Ah why our valour on each other wreak!
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