Chapter III: Part 3

Bury me with the men; when the fearful seige was gained, With British blood and British dead the Indian soil was stained. Poor Dugald lay that fearful night and never asked for aid, And Fraser, wounded, cheered us on, and Allan, dying, prayed, And brave Macdonald cheered the flag with his expiring breath. These are the men who jeopardised their lives unto the death, They drove the murderous Sepoys back, the wild wolf to his den; All honor to their noble hearts; bury me with my men.

Is it death that's coming nearer? how clammy grows my brow; Yes, I'm going home for promotion, the battle's over now. Comrades, I often fancy, how upon yon blessed shore, In that land of recognition, we may yet all meet once more. Colonel, we'll gather round you then, as in the days of old; Why do whisper, comrades, are my fingers growing cold? Oh, tell my brother-officers that I thought about them when I was going across the river; bury me with my men.

How very dark it's growing, I suppose it's nearly night; Well, I think we shall see England in the morning's ruddy light. And my mother and my sister surely I see them stand Upon the beach, and summer flowers waving in each hand; And sounds of joy and victory comes on the evening air. Colonel, if I go down home first, you'll come and see us there? Do I hear my comrades sighing? Where am I? ah, amen. Let there be no fuss about me, bury me with my men.

To the Birds.

Onward, sail on in your boundless flight, Neath shadowing skies and moonbeams bright, Kissing the clouds as it drops the rain, Touching the wall of the rainbow's fane; With your wings unfurled, your lyres strung, You sail where stars in their orbs are hung, Or for stranger lands where bright flow'rs spring, Ye have plumed the down and spread the wing.

We lay the strength of the forest down, We wear the robe and the shining crown, We tread down kings in our battle path, And voices fail at our gathered wrath; We touch; the numbers forget to pour, From the serpent's hiss to the lion's roar; But we may not tread the paths ye've trod, Though children of men and sons of God.

Ye haste, ye haste, but ye bring not back To waiting spirits the news we lack, Ye do not tell what it is to see The snow capped home of the thunder free, Ye do not speak of the worlds above, Ye tell no tales of the things we love, No height or breadth of the sunbeam's roof, You touch in your travels--terror proof.

You're strange in bright radience, wonderful; You're soft in your plumage, beautiful. Bold to bask in the clouds of even, Free in your flight to floors of heaven. Like dews that over the flowers spring, Like billows rolled over Egypt's king, You leave no track in the misty air, Or records of wonders that meet you there.

Initiation Ode.

Air--Belmont.

Hark! unto thee a voice doth speak,
A voice of heavenly breath,
And this, the solemn charge it gives,
Be faithful unto death.

Faithful as stars in heaven's blue skies,
Though dark clouds roll between,
Or rocks that show their signal lights
In tempest's wildest scene.

Faithful 'till death, which finally
Shall close thy mortal strife,
When thy reward shall surely be
The crown of endless life.

Installation Ode.

Blest Ruler, at whose word The universe was stirred, And there was light; Look now with gracious love From Thy bright home above, Direct in every move, Each proved, Sir Knight.

In mysteries well skilled, Their hearts with courage filled, Behold they stand; Strengthen their faith in thee, Let hope their anchor be, And heaven-born charity Mark their command.

Endure with holy light Each suppliant, Sir Knight; May each one prove Faithful in watch and word; Strong the oppressed, to guard And win the just reward Of Faith and Love.