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WAR-BALLADS 
 
 and 
 
 VERSES 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HATHORN MILLS 
 
 SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA 
 THE BARNUM & FLAGG COMPANY 
 
 1917 
 
 Copyright 
 
Of One Heart 
 
 April 20, 1917. 
 
 SIDE by side the banners stood 
 In the great Cathedral Choir 
 Sign of two nations' common blood, 
 Two nations' one desire. 
 
 Side by side, to the breeze unfurled 
 
 'Neath Heaven's canopy, 
 The Stars and Stripes of the Western World, 
 
 And the Union Jack, flew free. 
 
 Whether as call or orison, 
 
 They spoke of brotherhood 
 Of hearts that beat in unison, 
 
 Seeking a world-wide Good. 
 
 They prayed, and pray, for Victory; 
 
 Aye, and they call to fight; 
 Yes, but the cause is Liberty: 
 
 The fight is for the Right. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 Of One Heart 3 
 
 Names to Conjure With 7 
 
 Caritas Human! Generis 8 
 
 E Pluribus Vnum 10 
 
 Heroes 11 
 
 Bellerophons 12 
 
 En Avant 13 
 
 They Also Serve 14 
 
 Virtutis Causa 15 
 
 Sea-Dogs 16 
 
 Non-Combatants 17 
 
 Noms de Guerre 18 
 
 Irrepressibles 19 
 
 Runners 20 
 
 Some Keepsake 24 
 
 A Man of War 25 
 
 The Call of the Drum 26 
 
 Off the Breton Coast 28 
 
 In the Bay of Biscay 29 
 
 In the Straits of Otranto 31 
 
 A Ballad of the Grand Fleet 33 
 
 Hail! Canada 34 
 
 Our Dead 35 
 
 NOTE For details of the facts which suggested the ballade 
 contained in this booklet see The Times History of the War ; 
 The National Review of July, 1917 ; The Illustrated London News 
 of June 23, 1917 ; The Graphic of May 26, 1917. 
 
Names to Conjure With 
 
 SOME songsters sing of maidens' charms, 
 Of lovers' trysts on moon-lit shore, 
 But when our Country stands in arms, 
 
 What shall we sing but songs of war? 
 
 In days of old, when Persia's swarms 
 
 Swept westward, spreading death and wrack, 
 All that was Hellas sprang to arms, 
 
 And hurled the fell invader back. 
 
 What time the Syrian tyrant sought 
 To stamp out Israel's ancient creed, 
 
 The Maccabaean patriots fought 
 
 Till hearths and homes and faith were freed. 
 
 The tales that tell how Switzerland 
 
 Threw off the Austrian tyranny, 
 Lit up by names heroic, stand 
 
 Bright on the page of history. 
 
 Ah, words that were as tongues of flame 
 
 Sempach, Bethhoron, Marathon 
 Are ye but names now? Has your fame 
 
 Passed into cold oblivion? 
 
 Nay; ye are words still tipped with fire; 
 
 Still are ye as a trumpet-call; 
 Ye prompt our cry of righteous ire 
 
 "To arms! To arms! The Hun must fall". 
 
8 
 
 Caritas Humani Generis 
 
 THE war-call rings across the sea; 
 "To Arms"! the paean cries; 
 'Tis Right's demand; 'tis Freedom's plea; 
 
 Tis Truth denouncing lies. 
 Sons of Columbia, shall their claim 
 Find you as freemen but in name? 
 
 What's Freedom's part? To seek our own? 
 
 Is that true liberty? 
 Nay; not for its own sake alone 
 
 Is any soul made free; 
 Free! 'tis the children's epithet, 
 And that means claims that must be met. 
 
 Parents and children, each to each, 
 
 Owe love and sympathy; 
 Friendships may end or suffer breach; 
 
 The blood-bond cannot die; 
 Mankind are God's great family, 
 And woe to them who flout that tie! 
 
 The service of Humanity 
 
 Of souls by ills beset 
 That's duty in epitome, 
 
 And duty means a debt; 
 Debts must be paid; aye, and the call 
 Of Charity comes first of all. 
 
 Abou Ben Adhem, as he slept, 
 
 Saw how, in Heaven's purview, 
 
 The second great commandment kept 
 Means the first rule kept too; 
 
 "Am I my brother's keeper? I?" 
 
 That is a Cain's apology. 
 
Half-dead upon a hill-side road 
 
 A wounded traveller lay; 
 Levite and Priest saw him, and strode 
 
 Serenely on their way; 
 'Twas left to a Samaritan 
 To save from death that wounded man. 
 
 Both Priest and Levite would have pled 
 
 Privilege as their plea; 
 They feared defilement they'd have said 
 
 Some loss of sanctity; 
 With them self-interest came first 
 Excuse of all excuses worst. 
 
 "Our Country first", some voices cry; 
 
 If that means, "Motherland 
 Has higher claims than family 
 
 Or self", the cry will stand; 
 What if it means, "Let the world slide, 
 So long as we and ours abide"? 
 
 Nay; the world's Good, the rule of Right, 
 
 Truth, Honour, Charity 
 These things come first, and they who fight 
 
 For world-wide equity 
 For weaklings by the strong down-trod 
 Fulfil their duty unto God. 
 
 True children these, and not less true 
 
 They who, to serve God's will, 
 Under the Red Cross ensign do 
 
 Their work, and witness still, 
 As erst the Good Samaritan, 
 "God's glory is the good of Man". 
 
 NOTE "Free" comes from a root which meant "dear". It 
 distinguished the children of the family from the household 
 slaves. Hence the later sense. 
 
T ] 
 
 10 
 
 E Pluribus Vnum 
 
 "HUS then we meet the tyrant's threat 
 
 We of America, 
 And, with stern resolution, set 
 Our battle in array. 
 
 "Old Glory" stands for Liberty; 
 
 "Old Glory" stands for Right; 
 Its Stars and Stripes speak Unity, 
 
 And now its call is "Fight": 
 
 "Fight for your own, but fight not less 
 For the world's common good; 
 
 Fight for a rule of righteousness, 
 For world-wide brotherhood: 
 
 "Stand, to withstand the insolence 
 
 Of truculent war-lord; 
 Strike, to beat down the brute offence 
 
 Of mailed fist and drawn sword: 
 
 "For God, for Honour, for Redress 
 
 Of wrongs and injuries, 
 For Little Nations in distress 
 
 These be your battle-cries". 
 
 We answer to that call and plea, 
 
 And gird us to the fight; 
 We will not stand for Tyranny; 
 
 We will not fail the Right. 
 
 Spirit of Lincoln, shape once more 
 
 Our country's destiny, 
 And make the issue of her war 
 
 Triumphant victory. 
 
11 
 
 Heroes 
 
 V. C.'s "for valour" as we scan 
 The tale of deeds that won this glory, 
 Our wonder is that any man 
 
 Could do the deeds, could make the story. 
 
 Here, one man does the work of ten, 
 
 With ten men's grit, pluck, self-reliance; 
 
 There, half a company of men 
 
 Sets half a regiment at defiance. 
 
 Stories of Paladin and Knight 
 
 Tales that we called and reckoned fancies 
 Seem, in the blaze of this new light, 
 
 Not myths, but true-to-life romances. 
 
 Scornful of wounds, of risks, of odds, 
 
 Heroes press on where duty calls them; 
 
 Say, are they men or demigods, 
 
 Whom naught rebuffs, as naught appals them? 
 
 Just men, but men to whom the sense 
 
 Of duty is an inspiration; 
 To whom death means the expedience 
 
 Of one man dying for the nation. 
 
 This is the Master's spirit; it 
 
 Made Curtius leap into the chasm; 
 A flame, by love and honour lit, 
 
 It is divine enthusiasm. 
 
12 
 
 Bellerophons 
 
 (Flight Sub-Lient. R. A. J. Warneford, V. C., 
 
 R. N. A. S.) 
 
 NOT now on land alone or sea 
 Does war's grim conflict fare; 
 Aircraft have their artillery, 
 And battle in mid-air. 
 
 They scout, report the foe's intent, 
 
 Tackle each hostile plane; 
 In fact they use the firmament 
 
 As it were land or main. 
 
 On works that shelter submarines 
 They drop their compliments; 
 
 They smite the dirty Zeppelins 
 That slaughter innocents. 
 
 Little has war now of romance 
 
 Upon the ground below, 
 Save when the pipes skirl the Advance, 
 
 Or lance-charge breaks the foe . 
 
 But where, manoeuvering in high air, 
 
 The flying squadrons fight, 
 Or airplane duels with airplane, there 
 
 Is glamour of war all right. 
 
 The spirit of the old mariners, 
 
 Who sailed o'er unknown seas 
 
 Is it in the adventurers 
 
 Who dare such deeds as these ? 
 
13 
 
 If they and still Drake's drum is heard 
 
 With us yet bear their part, 
 His spirit, who singed King 1 Philip's beard, 
 
 Warneford, was in your heart. 
 
 You won Victoria's -Cross; you won 
 
 More than the prized V. C.; 
 For Freedom's thanks and benison 
 
 Hallow your memory. 
 
 En Avant! 
 
 AH, France, fair France never more fair 
 Than now when, in your agony, 
 You face the Hun; your gallantry 
 Is beauty such as Spirits wear. 
 
 We watched you at Verdun, and there, 
 
 As your thinned ranks smote Prussia's pride, 
 Saw what you are how fair, and cried, 
 
 "C'est magnifique, et c'est la guerre". 
 
 "The Old Guard dies" 'twas said of yore 
 "Aye, but surrenders not"; that soul 
 Is yours, and, while the ages roll, 
 
 Shall be the glory of your war. 
 
 It never dies that Gallic mood: 
 It was in Amadis, La Pucelle, 
 Roland, Bayard; Kelt and Ga*el 
 
 Bred it in France; it's in the blood. 
 
 Not vain your stand; now comes the Advance; 
 
 The Hun gives way; his doom is nigh; 
 
 Upon him with your chivalry, 
 And hurl him headlong! VIVE LA FRANCE! 
 
14 
 
 "They Also Serve Who Only Stand 
 and Wait" 
 
 (Boy J. T. Cornwell, V. C., H. M. S. "Chester".) 
 
 HALL-MARK of the heroic soul, 
 And stamp of chivalry, 
 "For Valour" stands upon the scroll 
 Of the V. C. 
 
 It pictures warriors in the fight, 
 
 In battle's fierce pell-mell, 
 Or Red Cross knights at work, despite 
 
 Bullet and shell. 
 
 Valour it is a word that speaks 
 
 Of strength, of manhood's crown 
 
 Strength that beats back offence, and breaks 
 Defiance down. 
 
 Yet women have been valorous, for 
 
 True valour is of the heart; 
 And one mere lad at Jutland bore 
 
 A hero's part. 
 
 Wounded to death right at the start, 
 
 He yet stuck to his post, 
 Waiting for orders; his brave heart 
 
 Recked not the cost. 
 
 He takes his place among the Three, 
 
 Staunch as their ironclads, 
 Who on that day won the V. C. 
 
 This lad of lads. 
 
15 
 
 Ah, Sailor Boy, you died, 'tis true, 
 But lives thus given live on; 
 
 Your life laid down meant life for you 
 Not lost, but won. 
 
 Virtutis Causa 
 
 (Piper D. Laidlaw, V. C., K. 0. S. Borderers) 
 
 I AND of my forbears, how shall I, 
 ^ An exile on a foreign strand, 
 Tell out your manhood's gallantry: 
 
 Their doughty deeds on sea and land? 
 
 Yet, for at times some news comes thro' 
 To these far parts, I can record 
 
 A deed, not less of derring-do 
 
 Than bayonet-charge or stroke of sword. 
 
 The King's Own Scottish Borderers stood 
 In act to rush a Prussian trench 
 
 To rush it thro' a hell that would 
 Have made a salamander blench. 
 
 Half-choked by gas, one company 
 Wavered a moment as in doubt; 
 
 The pause caught Piper Laidlaw's eye, 
 
 Who promptly straightened matters out. 
 
 
 
 Upon the parapet he sprang, 
 
 And, strutting calmly to and fro, 
 
 Made the pipes speak; their music rang 
 A slogan to the lads below. 
 
16 
 
 "The Standard on the Braes of Mar" 
 
 Lifted them, thrilled them, swept them on, 
 
 Till from the avalanche of their war 
 
 The Prussians fled; the trench was won. 
 
 He skirled away their doubt; he skirled 
 Them thro' that hell to victory; 
 
 They would have charged across the world 
 After his pipes that company. 
 
 Piper and pipes required repairs, 
 Later; the pipes, for all to see, 
 
 Are set in silver; Laidlaw wears 
 A cross that labels him V. C. 
 
 WHAT of our ships our mighty Battle-Fleet? 
 What has it done thus far in this world-war? 
 Has it made history that shall repeat 
 
 The fame of Gravelines and of Trafalgar? 
 
 The fight off Jutland aye, a gallant fight 
 
 And some few tussles in the Northern Sea: 
 
 That seems its published record. Has its might 
 Done nothing else to match its majesty ? 
 
 The shores of Britain and of France kept free 
 From trespass of invasion; host on host 
 
 Of fighting men and of artillery 
 
 Sent withput loss or hurt from coast to coast: 
 
 Our seas patrolled: blockaded Germany: 
 
 Trade routes protected: U-boats sunk or caught: 
 
 Armed raiders hunted down from sea to sea: 
 
 At business such as this our Fleet has wrought. 
 
17 
 
 What sort of work has this meant? /ork of brain 
 Not less than work of heart and hand and eye: 
 
 A vigilance as of watch-dogs: the long strain 
 Of ceaseless, tireless, patient energy. 
 
 A burden of responsibility 
 
 Such as no navy ever bare before 
 That is the weight our War-Fleet bears; 'twould try 
 
 The strength of Atlas, and the might of Thor. 
 
 Seamen of Britain, we, whom Britain claims 
 As her own children, doff our hats to you; 
 
 And, on the scroll that bears the mighty names 
 Of Drake and Nelson, set your record too. 
 
 /von- Com ba tan ts 
 
 NOT warriors only win and wear 
 The cross that bears Victoria's name; 
 Doctors and chaplains do and dare 
 
 As valiant deeds, and share their fame. 
 
 Aye, in the battle's very heart, 
 
 On ground swept by artillery, 
 These sons of peace have borne their part 
 
 With all a warrior's gallantry. 
 
 Each in the order of his work, 
 They, in the open, under fire, 
 
 Rescue and help; they never shirk 
 Or balk, and never seem to tire. 
 
 It's shortened now by many a gap 
 
 The roll of the R. A. M. .; 
 It makes no matter; hap what hap, 
 
 They carry on their ministry. 
 
18 
 
 The Red Cross on our side displayed 
 
 Attracts, too oft, the Prussian's aim; 
 
 By them, ah shame! it has been made 
 A blind; yet Britain plays the game. 
 
 And so among the names, that claim 
 Place in the roll of our V. C/s, 
 
 Are names of heroes, \yhose high fame 
 Is just a tale of ministries. 
 
 Noms De Guerre 
 
 THEY make their own Tanks now the French; 
 Tanks that are quite all right; 
 They'll smash thro' wire; they'll rush a trench; 
 They'll stand fire, and they'll fight. 
 
 They're named "Patte de Velours", "Mounette", 
 
 "Maleche", et caete^ra; 
 E. g., one bears the etiquette 
 
 Ironic "Pourquoi pas?" 
 
 When Job was living, a war-horse 
 
 Was said to neigh "Ha, Ha"; 
 To-day this Gallic Tank, of course, 
 
 Challenges, "Pourquoi pas?" 
 
 While British Tanks are doing their stunt 
 
 By Ypres and Arras, 
 Their French mates on the Champagne Front 
 
 Do ditto. Pourquoi pas? 
 
 French planes and British tumble Fritz 
 
 Headlong du haut en bas; 
 French Tanks and British give them fits 
 
 Below. Et pourquoi pas ? 
 
19 
 
 "Patte de Velours" ? Well, she, I guess, 
 Has claws that are as cats', 
 
 Sheathed, as it were, in velvet; yes; 
 But cats are death on rats. 
 
 Ah, Tanks of France, if there were need, 
 
 I'd wish you added might; 
 I wish you, as it is, "Good Speed", 
 
 And triumph in the fight. 
 
 And as for you, whose soubriquet 
 Is that grim "Pourquoi pas?", 
 
 I send you, tho' I'm far away, 
 A British cheer "Hurrah!" 
 
 Irrepressibles 
 
 SIX thousand unattached Marins, 
 Formed into a brigade, 
 Were sent by the French Admiralty 
 
 To bring the Belgians aid. 
 Their Brigadier, as well beseemed, 
 
 Was Admiral Ronarc'h: 
 A gallant soul, in whom there dwelt 
 
 The spirit of Jeanne d'Arc: 
 The fire of Keltic chivalry, 
 
 Of valour quick and stark. 
 
 Just Breton lads, for the most part, 
 
 They were, and under age; 
 But all, from Admiral downward, shared 
 
 One goodly heritage, 
 For theirs were Breton hearts, and theirs 
 
 The old Breton courage. 
 
20 
 
 They went to Ghent to bar the way 
 
 Against the Huns' advance; 
 They fought at Melle, and there upheld 
 
 The name and fame of France. 
 Then Antwerp fell, and they were sent 
 
 Off to Dixmuiden, there 
 To hold the town, and guard from breach 
 
 The line of the Yser. 
 
 "Hold on for two days, if you can" 
 
 The Admiral was told; 
 For near a month he stoutly kept 
 
 The Belgian stronghold 
 Kept it against a foe whose force 
 
 Outnumbered his ten-fold. 
 
 What did that mean ? It meant that Krupp 
 
 Guns showered their shot and shell, 
 Day after day, on them, and made 
 
 The little town a hell. 
 It meant that, horde by horde, the Huns 
 
 Swept onward to the attack, 
 And that each furious assault 
 
 Was met, and beaten back. 
 
 All this for near a month; at last, 
 
 Tho' not till Yser's flood, 
 Let in, had fortified the line 
 
 The gap that they made good 
 This band of heroes quit the post, 
 
 Now hallowed by their blood. 
 
 France gave them for their gallantry 
 
 A banner of their own; 
 And still, by one battalion 
 
21 
 
 Guarded, that flag is flown: 
 An echo and a memory 
 
 Of Roland's gonfalone. 
 
 O Fusiliers Marins, to you 
 
 Naught seemed impossible; 
 Whether as militant Marins, 
 Or well, as half -grown-up gamins, 
 You're irresistible. 
 
 Runners 
 
 (Pte. J. Miller, V. C., Royal Lancaster Regt. Pte. L. 
 E. Mallery, M. M., Tenth Canadian Battalion.) 
 
 '"FlS parlous work, and yet it brings 
 
 1 Naught of the joy of fight, 
 Naught of the high romance that erst 
 
 Charmed Paladin and Knight: 
 A humbler task, a task that claims 
 
 Courage and caution too: 
 Caution not less than courage: wit 
 
 Not less than derring-do 
 
 That is the runner's work; he must 
 
 Bear messages at need: 
 Must cross the open oft, and trust 
 
 His luck will be good spede; 
 Yet must he run no needless risks, 
 
 Would fling his life away; 
 Upon his errand's issue hang 
 
 The issues of the day. 
 
22 
 
 "More haste", the proverb says, "worse spede"- 
 
 He has that warning pat; 
 And yet that counsel, if the need 
 
 Be instant need, falls flat; 
 The venture, he reckons, must be made, 
 
 And he lets it go at that. 
 
 At times it falls to him to bear 
 
 Despatches thro' the night; 
 At times he has to get them thro' 
 
 The pell-mell of the fight; 
 Be it b^ T night, be it by day, 
 
 It's a ticklish job all right. 
 
 A ticklish job! Ah yes; that's why 
 
 A message is mostly sent 
 Not by one messenger alone; 
 Three runners bear it, each on his own, 
 
 To guard against accident. 
 
 It fell on a time that a messenger 
 
 Was shot on his outward race; 
 That meant a battalion's strength wiped out 
 
 In a couple of minutes' space; 
 Plans had been changed, and no one knew 
 
 Of the change where the thing took place. 
 
 Private James Miller, called to take 
 
 A message, and bring back 
 An instant answer, at any cost, 
 
 Started, nor loth, nor slack; 
 Shot thro' the body at once, he held 
 
 His hand on the gaping wound, 
 Went and returned, brought the reply, 
 
 And fell dead to the ground. 
 
Better the luck, and not less the pluck, 
 
 Of Lawrence Mallery, 
 Who ran the gauntlet not once nor twice, 
 
 And ran it triumphantly; 
 For he lived to tell the tale, and see 
 
 The fruit of his ministry. 
 
 Perils by sea, on land, aloft, 
 
 From U-boat, bomb and shell 
 
 Thro' these our heroes fight their way, 
 As it were thro' the Gates of Hell; 
 
 It's all for the sake of Motherland, 
 
 And their Mother loves them well. 
 
 She doesn't forget their fealty 
 
 The faith that their blood has sealed; 
 
 James Miller's deed claimed the V. C.; 
 
 And the medals, won by Mallery, 
 Bear, graven upon the shield, 
 
 Legends, as of a Magnificat 
 
 This, "For Distinguished Conduct": that, 
 "For Bravery in the Field". 
 
 Britons, nay all true hearts, are proud 
 
 Of such fine gallantry; 
 It gives us back our hopes in man, 
 
 Our faith in his destiny; 
 It flashes a vision upon our eyes 
 Of an Earth redeemed by self-sacrifice: 
 
 Of a new Humanity. 
 
24 
 
 Some Keepsake 
 
 (Sergt. R. Downie, V. C., Royal Dublin Fusiliers.) 
 
 'LL bring you a keepsake, wife" said he 
 
 "A trophy of war, from France; 
 But it won't be a German's helm, you'll see, 
 And it won't be a Uhlan's lance". 
 
 He went to the war, and he fought the Huns, 
 
 And bombed them merrily; 
 Was never another of Britain's sons 
 
 A starker Kelt than he. 
 
 It fell on a time, in a fierce attack, 
 
 That the British line was checked; 
 Some units wavered, and some fell back, 
 
 And the t)lan of assault seemed wrecked. 
 
 But Downie his officers all were dead 
 
 To the answer of rousing cheers, 
 Sang out: "'Come on, the Dubs", and led 
 
 The charge of his Fusiliers. 
 
 Wounded, he still pressed on: smote down 
 
 In his rush Hun after Hun: 
 Captured a quick-firer on his own, 
 
 Nor stayed till the post was won. 
 
 On leave of absence from the strife, 
 
 He came to his ain countrie, 
 And brought the keepsake to his wife. 
 
 What was it? O, the V. C. 
 
25 
 
 A Man of War 
 
 (Pte. T. A. Jones, V. C., Cheshire Regt.) 
 
 * t'-pODGER" it hardly seems a name 
 
 1 To claim a place on the scroll of fame; 
 Tis a hero's title, all the same. 
 He's Thomas A. Jones officially, 
 But "Todger" 's the name that he goes by. 
 
 "If I'm to be killed, well, killed I'll be 
 Fighting, not digging a trench" said he; 
 So he sallied forth like an errant knight, 
 In search of some venture would mean a fight. 
 
 And first he made for a near-by spot, 
 Whence a sniper was shooting shot after shot; 
 He got that sniper at the cost 
 Of a hole in his helmet inch high at most. 
 
 A white flag waved next caught his eye, 
 And two shots showed that it was a lie; 
 He stalked that pair, and got them too; 
 And then he pondered what next to do. 
 
 A little farther some dug-outs lay; 
 
 So he quietly strolled to the entrance-way, 
 
 And, meeting an English-speaking Hun, 
 
 Said as he covered him with his gun 
 
 "You tell your mates to come along, 
 
 For the Tommies are on them, 5,000 strong". 
 
 When his mates came up, they found that he 
 Was herding a goodly company; 
 For he'd got just five score Huns and two 
 Paraded all, as for a review. 
 
26 
 
 In a bit of a hollow stood the crowd, 
 Corralled, hands up, completely cowed; 
 He'd bidden them file out, one by one, 
 And drop their arms, and had seen it done; 
 He'd collared them every mother's son. 
 
 His comrades rounded them up, of course, 
 
 But his was the all-compelling force; 
 
 His stark audacity, his stern voice, 
 
 The bombs that he grasped all fixed their choice. 
 
 On leave of absence from the fray, 
 
 He came back home for a holiday; 
 
 Foe never saw his back, but he 
 
 Showed it to friends, and that shamelessly; 
 
 For Runcorn town was all out to greet 
 
 Its hero with acclamations meet; 
 
 But he just scuttled down a side street, 
 
 Nor stayed his flight till he had won 
 
 By backways home, and burst in u^on 
 
 His parents a bashful, and breathless son. 
 
 The Call of the Drum 
 
 (Drummer W. Ritchie, V. C., Seaforth Highlanders.) 
 
 E is his portrait seems to show 
 
 A lad, or little more; 
 Yet by his garb and drum we know 
 Him for a man of war. 
 
 What could he do that he should wear 
 
 Victoria's" Cross to-day 
 The Cross that falls to a picked few 
 For deeds of lordliest derring-do, 
 
 Done in the heart of the fray ? 
 
 H 
 
27 
 
 Ah, well we think of a stripling pair, 
 
 Jakin and Lew by name, 
 Thro' whom the "Fore and Aft" put off 
 
 That soubriquet of shame, 
 And became once more the "Fore and Fit" 
 
 Title of well-earned fame. 
 
 His officers, in the storm and stress 
 
 Of a hotly pressed attack, 
 Had fallen, and units, leaderless, 
 
 Or faltered, or held back. 
 
 Ritchie the thought was all his own 
 
 Sprang to a Hun trench-mound, 
 And standing there, erect, alone, 
 Beat, and re-beat, the "Charge"; not one 
 Of the British hearts in that battle-zone, 
 But leapt to the magic sound. 
 
 Above the roar of bombs and guns, 
 
 Rang from the parapet 
 That haughty challenge; and all the Huns 
 Fell back, as the wave of old Scotland's sons 
 
 Swept on with the bayonet. 
 
 
 
 The trench was carried; this business done 
 
 To his mind, he was content 
 To carry messages to and fro, 
 Wherever his duty bade him go 
 
 Thro' the hell, till the day was spent. 
 
 That's why he wears Victoria's Cross 
 
 This lad, and is worthy o't; 
 Our admiration is half amaze 
 To think that he lived to wear his bays; 
 
 But he did. 'Tis a bonny Scot! 
 
28 
 
 Off the Breton Coast 
 
 AS the Huns' submarine campaign 
 Went on its gruesome way, 
 A U-boat Captain sought to claim 
 Place in Gehenna's roll of fame 
 By sinking fisher-boats a game 
 Easy to win as play. 
 
 He hung about their fishing ground, 
 
 And sank them one by one; 
 The boats were lost; the crews were drowned; 
 Thus he fulfilled his daily round, 
 His role, of infamies, and found 
 
 Work worthy of a Hun. 
 
 And so this monster of the deep 
 
 Wrought havoc day by day, 
 Until the Hyacinthe-Yvonne, 
 A coaster from les Sables d'Olonne, 
 
 Cut short his game for aye. 
 
 Not a big boat, not iron-clad, 
 
 Was Hyacinthe-Yvonne; 
 Yes, but she bore a useful gun 
 A gun that pumped shells on the Hun, 
 
 And was his doom anon. 
 
 'Twas a grim fight; the coaster's crew 
 One moment held their breath; 
 
 For, firing hard, the submarine 
 
 Shot her beneath the water-line, 
 And wounded her to death. 
 
29 
 
 They didn't stop for that; they fired 
 A shell that turned the day; 
 
 It dealt the U-boat, just below 
 
 Her conning tower, a fatal blow; 
 
 She tried to dive, but failed, and so 
 Just stuck, perforce, half-way. 
 
 Then, as she hung, stern up in air, 
 
 Bows under sea, her hull 
 Served as a target for French shells, 
 
 And got them fair and full. 
 
 Five minutes settled her hash; what of 
 
 The Hyacinthe-Yvonne ? 
 O, she sank too, but not till she 
 Had seen the Huns' catastrophe; 
 And all her gallant company 
 
 Were saved aye, everyone. 
 
 So perish all the miscreants 
 
 Who play the pirate's game! 
 Theirs be the murderer's short shrift, 
 The murderer's doom no plea may lift, 
 Aye, and his deathless shame! 
 
 In the Bay of Biscay 
 
 A 
 
 THE fishers of 1'Ile-d'Yeu old men 
 All, and infirm the stark 
 And young were fighting in the fray 
 Saw signals of distress one day, 
 Hoist by a freighter in the Bay; 
 They manned the life-boat right-away, 
 And made sail for the barque. 
 
30 
 
 Torpedoed by a Hun U-boat 
 
 The ship was all awash; 
 The life-boat reached her, and anon 
 Took off the seven the rest were prone 
 
 Who had survived the crash. 
 
 They turned and headed for the shore 
 
 This little company; 
 Ah, but the wind was now a gale 
 A gale they fought without avail 
 That tore away their mizzen sail, 
 
 And swept them out to sea. 
 
 Two days and nights, with never a sup 
 
 Of water or a bite, 
 They battled against wind and wave, 
 And, facing aye a watery grave, 
 Did all that stout old hearts and brave 
 
 Might do in parlous plight. 
 
 On the third day at last^they made 
 
 The shore of Finistere; 
 But only eight were left to tell 
 
 This tale of grit and dare 
 This story how a dozen old men 
 
 Stuck it, and bluffed despair. 
 
 What was she after this Norse barque, 
 That lies beneath the main? 
 
 All innocent of guile or war, 
 
 From neutral shore to neutral shore, 
 
 A neutral ship, she simply bore 
 Food for the folk of Spain. 
 
31 
 
 Dark lies the shadow of that crime 
 
 Upon the coward Hun; 
 Yes, but perhaps it makes more bright, 
 More splendid to our watching sight, 
 
 The fame those heroes won. 
 
 I think that, when le Role d'Honneur 
 
 Is brought up, le bon Dieu 
 Will rank because they died to save, 
 Or dared for others' sake the grave 
 Among the bravest of the brave 
 The Old Men of Plfe-d'Yeu. 
 
 In the Straits of Otranto 
 
 (A Ballad of the French Fleet.) 
 
 AS it fell out, in the world-war, 
 An Austrian submarine 
 Torpedoed^, in the full moonlight, 
 A ship, Leon Gambetta hight, 
 That off Cape Leuca watched that night 
 The French blockading line. 
 
 Upon the cruiser's bridge there stood 
 
 Captain and Admiral; 
 They couldn't the dynamo was wrecked 
 
 Send out a wireless call; 
 The lights went out; the engines stopped; 
 And the great ship heeled, and her port side dropped, 
 
 As a boat before a squall. 
 
32 
 
 What did they do? Their one thought was 
 
 For the ship's company; 
 The Captain set himself to make 
 
 The ship ride evenly; 
 The Admiral shouted to the men, 
 
 And his voice rang; cheerily. 
 
 "Steady, my children! To the boats!" 
 He cried; "They are for you; 
 
 Nous autres, nous restons!" so he saw 
 
 His duty saw it as a law 
 Of honour and did it too. 
 
 Many were left, for boats were few; 
 
 Ah well, their countenance 
 
 Changed not; "Courage!", they cheered the cry 
 Rose as a paean "We shall die 
 
 Together! Vive la France!" 
 
 Not seven score of the cruiser's men 
 
 Were saved to fight again; 
 Five times as many loyal hearts 
 
 Went down beneath the main; 
 Officers, one and all of them, 
 
 Were numbered with the slain. 
 
 / \ / 
 
 Senes and Andre, Admiral 
 
 And Captain, aye, and ye 
 Or officers or men who faced 
 
 That grim catastrophe, 
 Nor flinched, truly ye were, and are, 
 
 A valiant company. 
 
33 
 
 To France your lives were consecrate; 
 
 For France ye laid them down; 
 The heroes of the Birkenhead 
 
 Share with you their renown; 
 Aye, and amid the gallant dead, 
 
 Ye wear the patriots' crown. 
 
 A Ballad of the Grand Fleet 
 
 (Com. Loftus W. Jones, V. C., R. N.) 
 
 THE heart of the old balladist 
 For Withering-ton was woe, 
 Who, when his legs were hewn in twain, 
 Upon his knee still fought amain, 
 Nor yielded to the foe. 
 
 And what but woe can our hearts be, 
 
 A-thinking of his death, 
 Who, as he fought in Jutland Bay, 
 Fought on with one leg shot away, 
 And cheered his men to their last fray, 
 
 And his, with dying breath ? 
 
 Full half his company were slain; 
 
 His ship was sinking fast; 
 Propped up by his last gun, he helped 
 
 To serve it to the last; 
 It was a grim five minutes that 
 
 An agony as it passed. 
 
34 
 
 His ship went down, and with her went 
 
 Her Captain and her crew; 
 But, 'ere the waves closed o'er the Shark, 
 Her last torpedo found its mark, 
 And a Hun ship sank too. 
 
 Ah, gallant Jones, it seemed to you, 
 
 And yours, a simple thing 
 To do your duty, and to die 
 
 For 'Country and for King. 
 
 The world has need of such true souls, 
 Wherever they have their birth; 
 
 They are the soul of chivalry, 
 
 Aye, and the very salt, perdie, 
 And leaven of the earth. 
 
 Our heart is woe for British tars 
 
 O'er whom the Atlantic rolls; 
 Yes, but it's also proud to know 
 Proud, aye, and thankful too, I trow, 
 That Britain breeds such souls. 
 
 Hail! Canada 
 
 Strong and sweet as the Maple-tree: 
 That's what your emblem bids you be 
 The leaf that figures your quality: 
 
 Sweet with the sweetness of loyalty, 
 Of honour, of sincerity, 
 Of cheerful generosity: 
 
35 
 
 Strong with the strength of constancy, 
 Of pluck, of patience, of energy, 
 Of grit that defies adversity: 
 
 That's what your emblem bids you be. 
 How have you answered its call and plea ? 
 By deeds of chivalrous gallantry. 
 
 In the great fight for liberty, 
 
 All the Dominions valiantly 
 
 Stood by their Mother, the Old Countree, 
 
 Aye, but when, as she stood at bay, 
 She called her children to the affray, 
 Who but -Canada led the way ? 
 
 Sweet and strong as the Maple-tree: 
 That's what your emblem bids you be; 
 Aye, and it's what you are, perdie. 
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE As I cannot find any symbolic meaning 
 attached to the Maple-leaf of Canada, I have had to invent one 
 "Sweetness and Strength". The Oak-leaf, as representing the 
 Oak-tree, symbolizes Strength. Why, then, should not the Maple- 
 leaf figure the characteristics of its parent tree one of the 
 strongest of trees, and the source of Maple-sugar? 
 
 Our Dead 
 
 WHAT shall we say of those who gave 
 Their lives at Britain's claim, 
 Nor held them dear so they might save 
 Their Motherland's fair fame: 
 
36 
 
 Who fought and fell for kith and kin, 
 
 For Freedom and the Right; 
 To whom disloyalty was sin, 
 
 And Justice more than Might? 
 
 From the Homeland and from afar, 
 
 Across the seas, they came; 
 The blood-bond drew them to the war 
 That, and the British name. 
 
 Now, of the hearts that beat so high, 
 
 Many are stilled for aye; 
 And lives that seemed too young to die, 
 
 Too dear, have passed away. 
 
 Shall we deplore them? Hearts are rent, 
 And weeping were no shame; 
 
 Nay, they are lift above lament; 
 Paean, not dirge, they claim. 
 
 As Hellas in the olden days 
 
 Bent o'er her gallant dead, 
 And gave them not her tears, but praise, 
 
 We dry our tears, half shed; 
 
 And with the thanks, the grateful praise, 
 
 Of those he died to save, 
 We lay a wreath of deathless bays 
 
 Upon each hero's grave. 
 
Dedicated to Our Men-at-Arms 
 
 WAR-BALLADS 
 
 and 
 
 VERSES 
 
 Second Series 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HATHORN MILLS 
 
 SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA 
 THE BARNUM & FLAGG COMPANY 
 
 1918 
 Copyright 
 
A TV umpe t- Call 
 
 JVl ARCH, march, sons of Columbia; 
 
 March to the front where the Hun stands at bay ; 
 What is Columbia's motto ? "Justitia 
 
 Omnibus". Make it your slogan to-day. 
 
 March to the goal that lies splendid before you 
 Peace with security: tyranny slain; 
 
 March to make answer to cries that implore you, 
 "Give us our homes and our freedom again". 
 
 March to exact from the foe reparation 
 
 For the foul wrongs he has done to the weak; 
 
 March to bring in, thro' this great tribulation, 
 Justice and Order the day of the meek. 
 
 March, march, sons of America; 
 
 Answer not only to bugle and drum; 
 Hark! to your hearts speaks a tuba angelica; 
 
 Gabriel calls, and his summons is "Come". 
 
Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 A Trumpet-Call 3 
 
 A Battle-Hymn , 7 
 
 Volunteers 8 
 
 Mercuries 9 
 
 Non Nobis 10 
 
 Stet Capitolium 11 
 
 Fiat Justitia 12 
 
 A Valley of Shadows 13 
 
 Une Orpheline 14 
 
 The Dear Old Duster 16 
 
 The Red Triangle , 16 
 
 Lost and Found i 18 
 
 Bellator Equus 20 
 
 The L. B. D/s 21 
 
 Goiod Samaritans 22 
 
 Near Gouzeaucourt 23 
 
 A Testament 23 
 
 Ad Inferos ... 24 
 
 Pocket- Anakim 25 
 
 Rome 26 
 
 Greece .' 27 
 
 Generosa Virago 28 
 
 At Cuinchy 29 
 
 A Royal Fusilier 30 
 
 Dardan Bay 31 
 
 A Volcano 32 
 
 Some Private 33 
 
 Meditation ,, 34 
 
 Laconics 34 
 
 A Stowaway 35 
 
 Pro Patria 35 
 
 NOTE. For details of facts see The Times History of the War; 
 Americans at the Front; The Irving Age, Nov. 11, 1916; The Battle 
 Glory of Canada; The British Californian, March and May, 1918; 
 The Square Jaw. 
 
A Battle-Hymn 
 
 \A/HEN Israel, in the days of old, 
 
 Against oppressors drew the sword, 
 What stirred their hearts, and made them bold ? 
 This that the war was of the Lord. 
 
 When Jesse's stripling son defied 
 
 Goliath's vaunts, and laid him low, 
 
 "The battle is the Lord's", he cried, 
 
 And slung the stone that slew the foe. 
 
 Our war is of the Lord, and clear 
 
 Sound in our hearts those battle-words; 
 
 Fighting for God, we will not fear 
 
 Aught, for the issue is the Lord's. 
 
 LORD of Sabaoth, at our side 
 
 Marshal the armies of the sky; 
 So shall we smite the despot's pride; 
 
 So shall we break all tyranny. 
 
 The Cross on Calvary was a sign 
 
 Of war war waged for Truth and Right; 
 Under that sign we fight; 'tis Thine 
 
 Own cause; be Thine own strength our might. 
 
 'Tis in Thy name we join the fray 
 This earnest of earth's final strife; 
 
 Lord of all power, be Thou our stay; 
 Lord of all being, be our Life. 
 
8 
 
 Volunteers 
 
 " HEY passed from the Foreign Legion 
 
 To the Aviation Corps: 
 From the service of Ambulances 
 
 To trench-work at the fore; 
 What was the voice that called them ? 
 
 What sent them to the war? 
 
 Not their own country's peril; 
 
 No harm had touched her yet; 
 With some 'twas the bond of kinship 
 
 Race-ties they could not forget: 
 With others a sense of duty 
 
 To the land of Lafayette. 
 
 These claims, and the like, constrained them, 
 
 And fired their chivalry; 
 But the thought of thoughts that swayed them 
 
 Was the love of Liberty, 
 And, blent with that love, a passion 
 
 Of generous sympathy. 
 
 And so, ere the Great Republic 
 
 Had marshalled her war-array, 
 
 Not less than fifty thousands 
 
 Of her sons had found their way, 
 
 As Ambulance-workers, airmen, 
 And soldiers, to the fray. 
 
 The old Crusading spirit 
 
 Is quick in each gallant soul; 
 
Their names With the names of Heroes 
 Stand linked on one muster-roll; 
 
 The Firstfmits of the Nation, 
 
 They have sanctified the Whole. 
 
 Mercuries 
 
 less at home in upper air 
 
 Than upon land or sea, 
 Our airmen ride the storm and cloud, 
 
 And, wheresoe'er they be, 
 They do their stunts, and dare all risks 
 
 As part of their industry. 
 
 Risks? Aye, each moment they affront 
 Death, and it makes no odds; 
 
 They take all chances as they come 
 These dauntless pteropods; * 
 
 'Twas of such stuif as this, I guess, 
 Were fashioned the demigods. 
 
 Like birds they soar; like birds they glide; 
 
 Like birds they mount and swoop; 
 Not tumbler-pigeons can outvie 
 
 Them, for they loop the loop; 
 They dive to a hostile plane, and 'tis 
 
 As the rush of an eagle's stoop. 
 
 The army's eyes, they are its scouts, 
 
 And its intelligence; 
 Their bombs on enemy trench and lair 
 
 Fall as a pestilence; 
 
10 
 
 But never a woman, never a child, 
 Has hurt from their offence. 
 
 Airmen of the embattled hosts, 
 
 Who fight for Liberty, 
 Lords of the air are ye, as are 
 
 Our sailors of the sea; 
 With fleets and armies shall ye share 
 
 The triumph of victory. 
 
 * An epithet of Hermes, whom the Romans called Mercurius. 
 
 Non Nobis 
 
 fc 4 J ET not him that putteth on his harness boast 
 
 himself as he, 
 
 Who, as victor, puts it off", exulting in his victory 
 Thus of old did Israel's monarch teach Benhadad 
 
 modesty. 
 
 A * sfc >K % 
 
 "Make you ready for the battle, for your battle is 
 
 toward; 
 Aye, but as the stripling David faced Goliath's spear 
 
 and sword; 
 Not with braggart word or action, but as soldiers of 
 
 the Lord. 
 
 "Other men have borne, are bearing still, the burden 
 
 of the fight; 
 Think of them as those whom duty led to battle for 
 
 the Right; 
 
11 
 
 Count it honour that with them you're called to break 
 tyrannic might". 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 That is what the heart and conscience of the Great 
 
 Republic say; 
 That is how she bids her children arm them for the 
 
 far-off fray. 
 Answer, children, "God be with us, and we'll fight 
 
 for Him for aye". 
 
 Stet Capitolium 
 
 \A/HETHER he sings of high romance, 
 Or hymns the everlasting Sire, 
 
 Or suits his lay to choral dance, 
 
 Or scourges forms of base desire, 
 
 Or paints the lady of his choice, 
 
 Horace is still a living Voice. 
 
 Your sweetly smiling Lalage, 
 
 Whose spirit turned a wolf to flight, 
 Your little farm by Tivoli, 
 
 Bandusia's fountain crystal-bright, 
 Your haunts, your hospitalities 
 Horace, they're all before our eyes. 
 
 Orbilius flogged you when at school; 
 
 You have our fullest sympathy, 
 For we remember a ferule, 
 
 That smote us oft and lustily; 
 Would it had gotten into us 
 A measure of your genius! 
 
12 
 
 You sang how Regulus put aside 
 
 The crowds encumbering his return, 
 
 Refused his wife's kiss, and denied 
 
 Her plea with answer curt and stern; 
 
 "Rome must be saved; let cowards die" 
 
 We hear it yet that naught reply. 
 
 How Paulus and how Cato died, 
 
 Too staunch to fly, too proud to yield; 
 How stout Marcellus turned the tide 
 
 Of war in many a foughten field: 
 How yeomen played heroic parts 
 You've stamped it all upon our hearts. 
 
 They left their farms to fight; they braved 
 All pains of death; and, if they fell, 
 
 What mattered it, so Rome were saved? 
 Her weal safeguarded, all was well. 
 
 The State must stand, tho' men may die 
 
 That was Old Rome's philosophy. 
 
 You made them household words the names 
 Of those who fought and fell for Rome 
 
 And you your memory lives, and claims 
 Place at their side in every home; 
 
 Your bones lie on a Roman hill, 
 
 Horace, but you are with us still. 
 
 Fiat Justitia 
 
 [ MPERIAL Rome has passed; she had her day, 
 
 And did her work a work that gives her place 
 
 Amid the names that stand, and shall for aye 
 Stand, in the story of our earthly race. 
 
13 
 
 States have their rise and fall, as man is born 
 
 And dies; but what they do for Truth and Right, 
 
 That does not die; quick as a seed of corn, 
 It lives and rises and renews its might. 
 
 Rome had her faults, but of one quality 
 
 Her vision was true vision; for she saw 
 
 What justice means and claims, and that is why 
 All later law is built upon her law. 
 
 She fell because, as she grew old, she grew 
 False to that vision, and made tyranny, 
 
 Not Right, her aim, till, eaten thro' and thro' 
 By vice, she forfeited her empery. 
 
 The empire of the Huns shall fall, and fall 
 
 Because it mocks at truth and righteousness, 
 
 Because its watchword, "Deutschland above all", 
 Is but a cry of pride and selfishness. 
 
 Justice demands that it should fall demands 
 That "frightfulness" and lies and the offence 
 
 Of crimes that break the peace of peaceful lands 
 Should be requited with stern recompense. 
 
 It means a long, grim struggle means, maybe, 
 That Armageddon's battle is toward; 
 
 Yet shall the Right prevail, and presently 
 
 Shall bring in the Millennium of the Lord. 
 
 A Valley of Shadows 
 
 THERE'S a strip a shifting strip of land 
 
 Called "No Man's Land"; it lies 
 Betwixt two hosts; on either hand 
 War sets its boundaries. 
 
14 
 
 You may hear, as you pass over it, 
 The breath of dead men's sighs; 
 
 You may hear, as from Abaddon's pit, 
 The moan of dying cries. 
 
 It's a hell; it's no man's land indeed; 
 
 It's swept by shot and shell; 
 Ghosts haunt it; evil spirits speed 
 
 O'er it; aye, it's a hell. 
 
 Yet soldiers cross it as they haste 
 
 To charge the enemy; 
 Doctors and Chaplains make its waste 
 
 A field of ministry. 
 
 Death's shades brood o'er that wilderness; 
 
 Its turf is a blood-stained sod; 
 Aye; yet it may be none the less 
 
 A stage to the Mount of God. 
 
 Une Orpheline de France 
 
 "* HE troops of France, forced to retire, 
 
 Had crossed the Somme canal; a maid 
 Opened the sluice gates, under fire, 
 
 And for a day the Huns were stayed. 
 
 She, when the foe passed thro' next day, 
 Remained, and, wheresoe'er she found 
 
 A wounded son of France, straightway 
 Bore him to shelter under ground. 
 
 One crippled man she nursed ancl fed 
 
 For days; the Huns, by an ill chance, 
 
15 
 
 Caught her and doomed her; "Do", she said, 
 "That which you will. I am of France". 
 
 A shell, just in the nick of time, 
 
 Scattered hard by its bric-a-brac; 
 
 It stopped the Huns' intended crime; 
 
 They fled, and then the French were back. 
 
 She went on serving France, despite 
 All risks now guiding a patrol, 
 
 Now helping sufferers; naught could fright 
 Her dauntless heart, her steadfast soul. 
 
 She stood for France against the Boche; 
 
 For this la Legion d'Honneur 
 Claimed her this maiden sans reproche, 
 
 Aye, and, as was Bayard, sans peur. 
 
 They gave her too la Croix de Guerre, 
 
 In token of her gallantry, 
 Who for her Motherland could dare 
 
 All things, nor reck if she must die. 
 
 Who was this girl of girls ? Was she 
 Jeanne d' Arc's reincarnated shade? 
 
 Well, who shall say? She claimed to be 
 Just a French lass, a village maid. 
 
 While France can breed such maids as this 
 Daughters as valiant as her sons 
 
 She need not fear the rage, ywis, 
 Of seventy million million Huns. 
 
16 
 The Dear Old Duster 
 
 I I PON the banner of our land 
 
 As tho' three Saints stood hand in hand, 
 Three Crosses, linked in union, stand. 
 
 They image more than what we see, 
 For, like the shamrock's leafery, 
 They figure threefold unity. 
 
 Saint George, the prince of England's knights: 
 Saint Andrew, guard of Scotland's rights: 
 Saint Patrick, who for Ireland fights: 
 
 These three, who bore the Cross that they 
 Might be its soldiers, day by day 
 Stand in the forefront of the fray. 
 
 Shoulder to shoulder, side by side, 
 By their one faith, one hope, allied, 
 They face all mischief, and abide. 
 
 Ah! Choir of Saints, you bid us be 
 Ever and aye one company, 
 Ever and aye a Unity. 
 
 The Red Triangle 
 
 I NTO the trench, over the parapet, 
 And the land that no man owns, 
 
 With bomb, with rifle, and with bayonet, 
 Goes Tommy, and makes no bones. 
 
 He's ready for any job, no matter what, 
 That duty bids him do; 
 
17 
 
 He tackles it, sticks it out, is on the spot, 
 And sees the business thro'. 
 
 He does his bit in trench and in dug-out; 
 
 Then needs and gets a rest; 
 Rested he's ready for another bout, 
 
 And keen to do his best. 
 
 But where shall he find rest not rest alone 
 
 Of body, but rest of heart ? 
 That's where the Red Triangle, on its own, 
 
 Came in and played its part. 
 
 Then the Church Army followed; East and West 
 
 These twin Societies 
 Comfort war-weary men, and give them rest 
 
 By tireless ministries. 
 
 Back from the firing line the fighters trudge, 
 
 Half dazed, half sick of life, 
 Just longing to forget forget the sludge, 
 
 The stress, the din, the strife. 
 
 They reach the Recreation huts, and there 
 
 Find letters, book-supplies,. 
 Games, music, hours of prayer, and everywhere 
 
 Kind words and friendly eyes. 
 
 There's magic in the change of thought and scene; 
 
 Strained nerves regain their tone; 
 There's no more worrying over what has been, 
 
 Or what is to be, done. 
 
 Red Cross and Red Triangle, signs are ye 
 Of noble things and blest; 
 
18 
 
 And soldiers' "Welcomes" huts or, it may be, 
 Just tents are of the best. 
 
 Honour to all who serve this ministry! 
 
 Honoured not least be they 
 Who saw the need, saw its insistency, 
 
 And met it right-away. 
 
 Lost and Found 
 
 OYS from the slums of London, where squalor and 
 
 crime belong, 
 Taken, and trained to the tempers of souls that are 
 
 clean and strong: 
 Taught that they're sons of Britain, and, as Britons, 
 
 must do no Wrong: 
 
 They have answered to call and training; they have 
 
 learnt to love the Right; 
 They are keen to do their duty, and to do it with all 
 
 their might; 
 And now for Old England's honour they have gone 
 
 forth to the fight. 
 
 They have passed to the Front in thousands, and 
 
 have proved their mettle there; 
 On war-ships, in the trenches, in the navies of the 
 
 air, 
 You may find these boys from Slumdom here, there, 
 
 and everywhere. 
 
 Look at the Roll of Honour; their names stand side 
 
 by side 
 With the names of Britain's heroes, who, whether 
 
 they yet abide 
 
19 
 
 Here, or have crossed the border, are her glory and 
 her pride. 
 
 Or look at scenes of battle Mons, Vendresse, La 
 
 Bassee, 
 Loos, Neuve Chapelle, Armentieres, Hill 70, Suvla 
 
 Bay- 
 Each spot can tell of our Slum boys how they bear 
 
 them in the fray. 
 
 There are Orders, badges, crosses, and medals, for 
 
 gallantry 
 Distinctions marked by letters that are titles of high 
 
 degree ; 
 Have Slum lads won such titles ? Aye, up to the 
 
 proud V. C. 
 
 Left to their old surroundings in the slums of Lon- 
 don Town, 
 
 Into what sort of manhood would these same lads 
 have grown? 
 
 Would it have been a manhood or honour and fair 
 renown ? 
 
 O Mission Schools of London, or wherever your 
 
 "forts" may be, 
 The Slum lads, that you rescued by your patient 
 
 ministry, 
 Shall rise up in the Judgment, and shall bless your 
 
 memory. 
 
20 
 
 Be Hat or Equus 
 
 A WAR of engines, of machinery, 
 
 Of tanks and submarines, 
 Of battleships, airplanes, artillery, 
 
 Of bombs and shells and mines 
 
 That's what war is to-day; man-power, of course, 
 
 Must work each instrument, 
 Aye, and must fight; but the war-engine's force 
 
 Rules the arbitrament. 
 
 But what was it that led in old-time wars 
 
 The way to victory? 
 Ask the Scots Greys; ask Vivian's Hussars: 
 
 That's Waterloo's reply. 
 
 But where shall the war-horse find work to-day ? 
 
 How can he charge a foe 
 Hid underground ? How can he burst his way 
 
 Thro' barbed wires set arow? 
 
 Ah well, the destrier waits, tho' he has done 
 
 His bit now and again, 
 The while his rider, lance and sabre gone, 
 
 Afoot hurls bombs amain. 
 
 Meantime who drags the lumbering guns along, 
 
 Thro' swamp and water-course, 
 Where tractors cannot pass who but the strong, 
 
 Patient artillery-horse ? 
 
 War-horses of the Entente, among the days 
 
 To come will be your day; 
 We'd like, if ever the Uhlans face the Greys, 
 
 To be not far away. 
 
21 
 
 The L. B. D. 's 
 
 I ITTLE, black-coatedyes, but not 
 
 Devils; and yet the old-time name, 
 The Indians gave them, has, I wot, 
 A certain aptness all the same. 
 
 It spoke of dash, insistence, .grit; 
 
 Outmatched and beat at their own game 
 The Indian braves acknowledged it 
 
 In this terse phrase, not all of blame. 
 
 In the first year of the world-war, 
 
 Ere yet the Huns had started gas, 
 
 The L. B. D.'s went to the fore, 
 
 To face whate'er might come to pass. 
 
 What came to pass was a foul blast 
 
 Of poisonous fumes, a noxious stench 
 
 That choked and dazed them; not less fast 
 They held the line; none quit the trench. 
 
 Next came the Boches, as thick as fleas, 
 
 Thinking the trench was now their own; 
 
 Gasping for breath, the L. B. D.'s 
 
 Rose to their feet, and mowed them down, 
 
 All that day long, with never a spell 
 
 Of rest, they fought, nor budged an inch; 
 
 Storm after storm ;of shot and shell 
 
 Smote them, but could not make them flinch. 
 
 Bidden retire they disobeyed 
 
 The order. Why ? Because they knew 
 A counter-push was to be made; 
 
 They meant to back it, and see it thro'. 
 
22 
 
 At last reliefs came; not till then 
 
 Did they fall back for a change of air. 
 
 That's how the Winnipeg Riflemen 
 
 Interpret still their nom-de-guerre. 
 
 Good Samaritans 
 
 l-I OW do the dogs of Belgium fare 
 In the changed order of today ? 
 
 Well, where their masters are, they are; 
 Many, that is, are in the fray. 
 
 As war-dogs some are scouts, some bear 
 Orders, some watch against the foe; 
 
 In fact, here, there, and everywhere, 
 Wherever the army goes, they go. 
 
 Some have dragged pom-poms to the Front; 
 
 Some are attached to Red Cross Corps; 
 And these are trained, and learn, to hunt 
 
 For soldiers wounded in the war. 
 
 One of them finds a "casualty" 
 
 Hid by his own act, or by chance 
 
 Picks up his cap, and instantly 
 Carries it to the Ambulance. 
 
 Then, nurse or doctor following, 
 
 It leads to where the sufferer lies, 
 
 And so brings help to him; the thing 
 Is just a round of charities. 
 
 S. Bernard would have ioved, I wot, 
 
 These dogs, and set them by his own; 
 
 Nay more, they share why should they not?- 
 The Good Samaritan's renown. 
 
4 fc 
 
 23 
 
 Draught-dogs of Belgium, you seem 
 
 To make it almost possible 
 To count the 'old-time Indian dream 
 
 Well-nigh, if not quite, credible. 
 
 Near Goazeaucourt 
 
 OYES, they were cooks and engineers, 
 
 And it wasn't their job to fight; 
 But the Hun broke thro', and a British post 
 
 Hard by was in parlous plight; 
 So they picked up rifles, and did their bit 
 
 To hustle him back all right. 
 
 They coioked his goose, they blazed broad trails 
 'Thro' the thick of the charging mob; 
 
 They stood at the fighters' side and fought, 
 "Tho' it wasn't at all their job, 
 
 Till supports came up, and the Prussian rush 
 Died out like a dying sob. 
 
 They're handy men the men who hail 
 
 From far Columbia's shore; 
 If ever I get cut off, or left 
 
 In the lurch, by a chance of war, 
 Give me a bunch of such boys as these 
 Cooks, engineers, whatever your please 
 
 For at need they are sons of Thor. 
 
 A Testament 
 
 JV\ ON corps a terre, mon ame a Dieu, mon coeur 
 
 a France" so ran 
 
 The soldier's will his testament found by the 
 Ambulance; 
 
24 
 
 It lay beneath Ms fingers, at the side of the dead 
 
 man 
 
 Mute witness that his dying thoughts were to 
 the last of France. 
 
 "Mon coeur a France". Is there a thing more won- 
 derful on earth 
 
 Than the deep love of Motherland, the passion- 
 ate reverence 
 That draws and binds her children to the Country of 
 
 their birth, 
 
 To fight for her, and, if need be, to die in her 
 defence ? 
 
 Ah France, such sons as this are your true glory and 
 
 your pride; 
 Aye, and your hope the promise of a better, 
 
 brighter day; 
 With such a brood about your knee, or weal or woe 
 
 betide, 
 
 You shall be France the Beautiful for ever and 
 for aye. 
 
 Ad Infer os 
 
 "THRO' hell to heaven", said one, "there lies 
 
 A way", and our Immanuel, 
 When He reopened Paradise, 
 
 Passed to it thro' the gates of hell. 
 
 Out of war's hell there runs a path 
 For suffering souls and innocent, 
 
 And victims of man's lust and wrath 
 Find it a pathway of ascent. 
 
25 
 
 Daughters and babes of Belgium, 
 
 Sent thro' a hell by brutal Huns, 
 
 Be of good hope; your martyrdom 
 
 Sets you by Bethlehem's little ones. 
 
 In the Great Father's kind embrace 
 
 They passed beyond all death and sin; 
 
 The fiends who wronged you well, their place 
 Is Tophet, with their kith and kin. 
 
 Pocket- Anakim 
 
 "PANTAMS"? Well yes; they're undersized 
 
 ^In thew and bone, in girth and height; 
 Yet each is an epitomized 
 
 Edition of a stalwart knight. 
 
 They fight for all that they are worth; 
 
 Play all the warrior's role of parts; 
 And you may search the whole wide earth 
 
 In vain for pluckier, stauncher hearts. 
 
 All honour be to them who, when 
 
 Officialdom had turned them down, 
 Claimed right to serve as fighting men 
 The Land which claimed them as her own. 
 
 There's a division of them now 
 
 Fighting; and, by whatever name 
 
 They go, they've proved themselves, I trow, 
 Of the true mettle, "thorough game". 
 
26 
 
 Rome 
 
 "* rule the nations with a lordly sway: 
 
 To spare the conquered and war down the 
 
 proud 
 That was Rome's rule of action in her day 
 
 Of might, when to her will the whole world 
 bowed. \ 
 
 Yet her dominion was no tyranny; 
 
 Its peace was not the peace of dull despair; 
 It made for order and for equity; 
 
 That Law should be obeyed, that was its care. 
 
 It helped to civilize the world; it bore 
 
 Its part in the uplifting of mankind; 
 
 It won its triumphs not alone by war, 
 
 But by the arts too that inform the mind. 
 
 Revealed and pictured in her world-wide sway, 
 Her Genius is her true panegyrist: 
 
 For what she did and taught prepared the way, 
 And ushered in the kingdom, of the Christ. 
 
 It was her last great triumph when her war 
 
 Clashed with "The Scourge of God", and hurled 
 him back; 
 
 Shade of Aetius, lead her sons once more 
 
 To meet and break the selfsame foe's attack. 
 
27 
 
 Greece 
 
 (June 29, 1917) 
 
 A T last, at last, ye join our war, 
 
 Sons of historic Greece; 
 At last; why came ye not before, 
 But chose inglorious peace ? 
 
 Not yours the fault, ye say; your king 
 Reckoned himself the State, 
 
 And deemed the people's voice a thing 
 Entirely out of date. 
 
 Well, it was so; the moral is 
 
 Have rulers who obey 
 Your Constitution's law, for this 
 
 Is Liberty's one stay. 
 
 In Freedom's cause ye set at last 
 
 Your battle in array; 
 So fought your forbears in the past; 
 
 So would they fight to-day. 
 
 Plataea, Salamis, Marathon, 
 Thermopylae each name 
 
 Is as a voice to cheer you on: 
 Is as a call and claim. 
 
 Leonidas, Miltiades, 
 
 Themistocles your air 
 Is fragrant with their memories, 
 
 With breath of their high dare. 
 
28 
 
 Fight as they fought, who would not brook 
 
 The invader on their coasts: 
 Who flung themselves, with never a look 
 
 Back, on the Persian hosts. 
 
 Ye Spirits of the mighty dead, 
 
 Who kept fair Hellas free, 
 March at the Hellene armies' hei.d, 
 
 And win them victory. 
 
 Generosa Virago 
 
 4 A BRITISH Nurse wins Serbia's V. C."- 
 
 Prowess indeed! What for? 
 For faithful service in the ministry 
 
 Of the Red Cross she wore ? 
 
 Well, no. Her Red Crusading ministry 
 
 Was service good and true 
 Was, for that matter, as a chivalry, 
 
 Faithful and valiant too. 
 
 But not as Sister Sandes did this brave soul 
 
 Win Serbia's heart of hearts; 
 'Twas as a sergeant on her army-roll, 
 
 An Amazon of parts. 
 
 For, when the Serbs fell back, recalcitrant 
 
 Against o'erwhelming might, 
 She joined the Colours as a combatant, 
 And fought as heroes fight. 
 
 "Always the first over the parapet" 
 That was her record, won 
 
29 
 
 By acts of war acts made with bayonet 
 And bomb against the Hun. 
 
 The medal found her in a patients' ward, 
 
 Wounded, but full of pluck; 
 Britons and Serbians will, with one accord, 
 
 Wish her the best of luck. 
 
 At Cuinchy 
 
 (February 1, 1915) 
 
 M : 
 
 ICHAEL O'LEARY Irishmen 
 
 Must name his name with pride, 
 Who took one barricade, and then 
 Another, as in his stride. 
 
 Five Huns manned the first barricade; 
 
 He promptly slew the lot; 
 Two of the next cried "Kamerad"; 
 
 The other three were not. 
 
 Ten against one big odds; natheless 
 The one man won the day; 
 
 S. Michael must have helped, I guess, 
 His namesake in that fray. 
 
 He saved his mates, and, saving these, 
 
 Saved the position too; 
 'Twas not mere death to enemies 
 
 That act of derring-do. 
 
 He wears the V. C. for his deed, 
 And wears it of his right, 
 
 For never man in time of need 
 Fought a more gallant fight. 
 
30 
 
 Land of the Harp, you have, ywis, 
 Bred many a doughty son, 
 
 But never a stauncher son than this, 
 Never a braver one. 
 
 Michael O'Leary, I would state 
 
 That very certainly 
 I'd sooner have you as a mate 
 
 Than as an enemy. 
 
 A Royal Fusilier 
 
 11 PON the eternal scroll of fame, 
 
 By deeds that make old tales seem tame, 
 Lance-Sergeant Palmer set his name. 
 
 What did he do ? Nay, rather say 
 
 What did he not do on the day 
 
 He broke the Prussian's fenced array? 
 
 His officers had fallen; he 
 
 Took the command, and instantly 
 
 Sprang to the head of his company. 
 
 Under a pom-pom's point-blank fire, 
 He cut his way thro' hindering 1 wire 
 Straight to the goal of his desire. 
 
 That was the trench wherein the gun 
 Was set, with many a bombing Hun; 
 He, with six mates, slew every one. 
 
 Counter-attacks soon came, and one, 
 The eighth, that came when he had gone 
 After more bombs, brought back the Hun. 
 
31 
 
 Bombed off his feet, this man of men 
 Rose up, rallied his mates, and then 
 Captured the lost trench once again. 
 
 Thenceforth they held it; and that stay 
 
 Settled the issue of the fray; 
 
 It saved the line, and won the day. 
 
 Among those who, by Heaven's grace, 
 Stand forth as champions of their race, 
 Palmer, you claim a front-rank place. 
 
 Two words, upon your cross engraved, 
 Show what alarms of death you braved; 
 What shall they add whose lives you saved? 
 
 Dardan Bay 
 
 GHT up the Dardanelles he went, 
 'Neath five mine-lines that barred the track, 
 Sent down a Turkish battleship, spent 
 
 Nine hours submerged, and then won back. 
 
 He braved torpedo-boats, gun-fire, 
 
 A treacherous current, and, I'm half 
 
 Afraid, incurred the vengeful ire 
 
 Of the whole German Naval Staff. 
 
 'Twas their head-quarters swept away; 
 
 Guarding the mine-field, and by it 
 Guarded, the warship fell a prey 
 
 To one man's pluck and grit and wit. 
 
 He hurt no peaceful ship; not one 
 
 Woman or child was drowned; that's how 
 Lieutenant Holbrook fought the Hun; 
 
 That's why he wears the V. C. now. 
 
32 
 
 A Volcano 
 
 QHE'S not a warlike country, but, 
 
 When Britain has to fight, 
 She fights amain; five nations put 
 
 Their strength into her might. 
 
 She wanted to dislodge the Huns 
 
 From some well-wired trench-lines; 
 
 She did it with 500 tons 
 Of ammonal in mines. 
 
 Up in the air they, and their guns 
 Were scattered wide and far; 
 
 They found themselves, in fact those Huns- 
 Hoist with their own petard. 
 
 Then spoke the roar of British guns, 
 
 And forward to the attack, 
 Wave after wave, swept Britain's sons, 
 
 And thrust the Prussians back. 
 
 They rushed the line, the town, the height; 
 
 They smashed the fenced array; 
 And in the centre of the fight 
 
 Well, 'twas Ould Ireland's day. 
 
 Ah ye, whose cruel cannons broke 
 
 A little land's repose, 
 Now shall ye, stricken with your own stroke, 
 
 Find ye were your own foes. 
 
 'Tis from the land you basely tore 
 From those, to whom was given 
 
33 
 
 Your pledge they should be safe from war, 
 That you are being driven. 
 
 You've put your trust in lawless might; 
 
 You've wrought all infamies; 
 You've sinned against all Right and Light; 
 
 Now come the penalties. 
 
 Some Private 
 
 UARRY O'HARA lay in hospital 
 
 Needing prolonged repair; 
 He had, in fact, some seventy wounds in all 
 Upon him, here and there. 
 
 A Private in the Middlesex Regiment 
 
 How he got into it 
 Is not quite clear he'd made it evident 
 
 He had the "Die-Hards' " grit. 
 
 A little man as soldiers go, he yet 
 
 Had played a hero's part; 
 Small tho' his body was, in it was set 
 
 A great, a Titan heart. 
 
 Far off he was, and in a foreign land, 
 
 When the war- tidings came; 
 He straight resolved that he must take a hand 
 
 In the great battle-game. 
 
 He joined the Sikhs in India on his way, 
 
 Changing his name to suit, 
 And so he got to France, where he and they, 
 
 Tho' horsemen, fought on foot. 
 
34 
 
 Twas thus that, as he fought in the front line, 
 
 He got his wounds, and won 
 The Military Medal proof and sign 
 
 Of duty bravely done. 
 
 The bond of camaraderie in war, 
 
 A bond no wrench can snap, 
 Obliterates race differences, for 
 
 O'Hara is a Jap. 
 
 Meditation 
 
 \A/ ITHIN the trenches, when there's nothing doing, 
 
 He stands and ponders; 
 Is it to thoughts iof billing and of cooing 
 
 That his mind wanders? 
 
 Within some Recreation hut, or maybe 
 
 Tent, he sits scowling; 
 Is it because some French or Belgian baby 
 
 Nearby is howling? 
 
 no; altho' his sweetheart's not forgotten, 
 
 Tho' babes may bawl out, 
 He's thinking to himself "0 this is rotten; 
 
 My baccy's all out". 
 
 Laconics 
 
 LOUR and taciturnity 
 Are, as it were, birds of a feather; 
 At any rate it seems to be 
 
 Fact that they often go together. 
 
35 
 
 Of the first sailor Horace said 
 
 His heart was cased in oak and copper; 
 What of the A. B. found half-dead, 
 
 And his report "We trimmed 'em proper" ? 
 
 A Stowaway 
 
 fc fc I TRIED to get back to the Old Oountree", 
 
 He said, "ten years ago; 
 But they chucked me out 'ere they left the quay, 
 
 And used swear-words also. 
 
 "To work my passage was my intent, 
 And to work I was keen and fain; 
 
 But their language was most impertinent, 
 And I never tried 
 
 "I'm going back now in khaki clad, 
 And the fare won't trouble me, 
 
 For, tho' no longer a beardless lad, 
 I'm to fight for the Old Countree". 
 
 Pro Patria 
 
 pHILDLESS ? Ah yes. We had a son- 
 ^ As fair a son as one might see; 
 We hoped he was our only one 
 He'd never leave his dad and me. 
 
 He might have won to high degree 
 
 In many things that make men great; 
 
36 
 
 Naught would content him but that he 
 Should be a soldier of the State. 
 
 Ah well. We let him have his way; 
 
 He fell we feared it would be so, 
 But, when we think of him, we say, 
 
 "He led the charge that broke the foe". 
 
Dedicated to Our Men-at-Arms 
 
 WAR-BALLADS 
 
 and 
 
 VERSES 
 
 Third Series 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HATHORN MILLS 
 
 San Bernardino, California 
 THE BARNUM & FLAGG COMPANY 
 
 1918 
 Copyright 
 
A Battle Prayer 
 
 OLord of war, our armies fight 
 Against a ruthless tyranny; 
 Strengthen, we pray, with Thine Own might 
 Their hearts, and give them victory. 
 
 Prince of peace, bring in thro' war 
 
 The peace of God peace all divine 
 
 And may that peace for evermore 
 
 Keep us at one with Thee and Thine. 
 
Foreword 
 
 This third series of War-Ballads collects some 
 published leaflets and odd bits of verse, omitted in 
 the earlier series, and adds some later verses. It 
 completes a set of booklets published mainly for dis- 
 tribution to our fighting men. The writer, a septua- 
 genarian, must now hand on the torch. 
 
Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 A Battle-Prayer 3 
 
 War , 7 
 
 Par Nobile 8 
 
 Huns 9 
 
 Quousque ? 11 
 
 Blasphemy 12 
 
 The Hymn of Hate 12 
 
 Crusaders 14 
 
 Romania 15 
 
 Echoes from Tooley Street 15 
 
 For Valour 17 
 
 Number One ... 18 
 
 The Doom of Ahab 20 
 
 A Self-Accuser .... 20 
 
 A Round Table 21 
 
 Tall Talk 22 
 
 Vive la France 22 
 
 Some Columbian ... 23 
 
 Grit v 23 
 
 Verdun 24 
 
 At the Front 25 
 
 NOTE. For details of facts see The Bryce Report on al- 
 leged German outrages ; Belgians Under the German Eagle, by 
 Jean Massart ; German Atrocities, an official investigation, by 
 J. H. Morgan ; The New York Evening Sun, August 10, 1914 ; 
 The Los Angeles Examiner, June 26, 1917 ; The Los Angeles 
 Times, January 26, 1918; The Bookman, March, 1918. 
 
War 
 
 fct \X7AR" 'twas a soldier spoke "is hell"; 
 * V Aye, and yet Heaven itself once knew 
 War, when the hosts of Michael 
 
 Fought with the Dragon and his crew. 
 
 War waged by fiends is devilry; 
 
 It's sin and pain and nothing more; 
 But angels, too, fight ceaselessly, 
 
 And their war is a holy war. 
 
 "I came not to bring peace on earth, 
 
 But war", proclaimed Creation's Lord; 
 
 As travail-pangs shape for the birth, 
 
 His peace is fashioned by the sword. 
 
 All human wars make misery 
 
 Anguish that Heaven alone can heal; 
 
 Yes, but from out the agony 
 
 Spring better things; woe leads to weal. 
 
 The conscience of the world acquires 
 A truer sense of what should be: 
 
 Learns to desire what Right desires: 
 Learns to love peace and unity. 
 
 And in the end Right conquers Might; 
 
 It casts down tyranny and pride; 
 The fight is long, but there is light, 
 
 The light of peace, at even-tide. 
 
 Nor that alone; for they may win, 
 Who fight for Truth and Liberty, 
 
8 
 
 As taught by war's stern discipline, 
 A loftier humanity. 
 
 They, who in peace were ne'er-do-weels, 
 In war see what they were; and then 
 
 A something to their hearts appeals, 
 
 That conquers self, and makes them men. 
 
 The sense of duty, Honour's claims, 
 
 The spirit of camaraderie, 
 The tempers born of noble aims, 
 
 Are as constraints to chivalry. 
 
 Under the storm of shot and shell 
 
 They find their comrades staunch and true; 
 It lifts them ah, if war be hell, 
 
 It is a purgatory too. 
 
 Evil is in the world, and, till 
 
 Cast out by war, must vex our life; 
 
 The Cross meant war; it means it still, 
 But means, too, victory in the strife. 
 
 Par Nobile Fratrum 
 
 (Written for the British- American League, Los 
 Angeles.) 
 
 OTAND side by side, John Bull 
 ^ And Jonathan, 
 Serving a dutiful 
 
 Service of man. 
 Union is strength; thus strong, 
 
 In the long fight 
 Waged between Eight and Wrong, 
 
 Stand for the Right. 
 
Stand up for world-wide peace, 
 
 For Liberty; 
 Let your names spell surcease 
 
 Of tyranny. 
 Eid every little State 
 
 Of the grim fear 
 That foes may violate 
 
 All it holds dear. 
 
 Let your twin navies keep 
 
 Watch o'er the sea, 
 And make the vasty deep 
 
 A highway free 
 Free to all argosies 
 
 Bearing their stores 
 Of foods and merchandise 
 
 To far-off shores. 
 
 So shall your influence, 
 
 Your banded might, 
 Work, under Providence, 
 
 A reign of Right. 
 So shall the world become 
 
 A Unity, 
 And every hearth and home 
 
 A sanctuary. 
 
 Huns 
 
 T^HEY murder babes, shame women, loot, 
 Use poisonous gases, liquid fire, 
 
 Asphyxiating shells, and shoot 
 
 Prisoners, to glut their lust and ire. 
 
10 
 
 They mutilate and insult the slain 
 With foul and hideous outrages, 
 
 Torpedo harmless liners, rain 
 
 Bombs on defenceless villages. 
 
 Women and children, roped, are made 
 Screens for their firing companies; 
 
 Red Cross and White Flag hang displayed 
 O'er their machine-guns as disguise. 
 
 Liars and well, there's mystery 
 
 In their idea that other souls 
 Will take what's a transparent lie 
 
 For truth, the same not being moles. 
 
 No form of "frightfulness", it seems. 
 
 Is practised by these sons of blood 
 No horror mocking nightmare-dreams 
 
 But Kultur proves it right and good. 
 
 Kultur? Such culture is of hell; 
 
 It's all a blend of sophistries 
 And lies, a creed most infidel, 
 
 A cult of Mephistopheles. 
 
 The Pharisees were by holy lips 
 
 Called Hypocrites in days of yore; 
 
 Prussian hypocrisies eclipse 
 
 All theirs, and, I guess, a thousand more. 
 
 One crowning act of infamy 
 
 Challenged them, and to them seemed good; 
 An English nurse, they said, must die. 
 
 She died. They shot her in cold blood. 
 
11 
 
 This is the race that claims to be 
 
 God's choice, God's glory, and God's crown. 
 Ah Heaven, avenge the blasphemy, 
 
 And cast this brood of monsters down. 
 
 Quousque Tandem? 
 
 IT seemed as tho' the Huns had reached 
 The summit of their infamies 
 When they shot Nurse Cavell, and preached 
 A gospel of atrocities. 
 
 They hadn't; it yet remained to wreck 
 And sink not trading ships alone, 
 
 But floating hospitals, nor reck 
 
 That half the wounded were their own. 
 
 As for the foul obscenities 
 
 That marked the track of their retreat, 
 Apes would have scorned such acts as these; 
 
 Fie4s had disdained such dirty feet. 
 
 vik} i J^t*' 
 
 Viler atrocities, and yet 
 
 More vile, continually swell 
 The tale of their offence, and set 
 
 New records on the charts of hell. 
 
 The wonder is that all the world, 
 
 From North to South, from West to East, 
 Has not arisen in wrath, and hurled 
 
 Destruction on the abysmal Beast. 
 
12 
 
 Blasphemy 
 
 THEY knew their emperors were but men 
 And often brutes at that, 
 Who rose to power thro' blood, and then 
 
 On blood and groans grew fat 
 Yet servile Romans deified 
 
 Those emperors, and gave 
 
 Then Jionours, such as crazy pride 
 
 Alone could seek or crave. 
 
 Even Napoleon, tho' he thought, 
 
 In mad pursuit of fame, 
 To rule the wide world, never sought 
 
 Such blasphemous acclaim. 
 But German bards now bend their knees, 
 
 In rank idolatry, 
 And call their Kaiser "Prince of Peace", 
 
 Nor reck the blasphemy. 
 
 Aye, and they name him "Lord of War" 
 
 A title all divine, 
 And think their hordes, with him as Thor, 
 
 Will "conquer in that sign". 
 Whose is the fault? His, or the crew's, 
 
 That vaunts his majesty? 
 We know not, but we tell that Muse 
 
 Her blasphemy is a lie. 
 
 "The Hymn of Hate" 
 
 ELL has no fury like a woman scorned" 
 The poet must have scorned some dame, I 
 fear 
 
13 
 
 That's Prussia's temper now, who, tho' forewarned, 
 Would not believe the warning, would not hear. 
 
 She nursed the fond illusion in her soul 
 
 That Britain's heart was set on world-wide rule; 
 
 She wished to share that first, then grasp the whole, 
 And so she broke the peace. purblind fool! 
 
 She thought that Britons would stand idly by, 
 
 While upon Frank and Slav she worked her will ; 
 
 Then she would rest awhile; then, by and by, 
 
 Britain would have to pass thro' the same mill. 
 
 What made her think of Heaven as glad to be 
 
 Her tool? What robbed her of all common 
 sense ? 
 
 What bade her lie, and reckon it piety ? 
 Just this a mad lust of omnipotence. 
 
 Treaties to her were scraps of paper, worth 
 
 As bonds and pledges something less than 
 naught; 
 
 That Might is Right, that lordship of the earth 
 
 Is hers by right divine that was her thought. 
 
 Therefore, when Britain kept her flighted word 
 To Belgium, and refused the proffered bait, 
 
 Britons became to her a race abhorred; 
 
 Her feigned affection turned to rancorous hate. 
 
 That was the inspiration of the hymn 
 
 That rants of English lies and perfidy, 
 
 That reckons God a Hun, and calls on Him 
 To punish England for her treachery. 
 
14 
 
 Read in this light it is a hymn of praise, 
 
 A testimonial, a certificate 
 Of blameless character, a creed that says 
 
 "Falsehood we love; Honour and Truth we hate". 
 
 Crusaders 
 
 A RED CROSS UNIT left, on dit,* 
 ** America for France, 
 Owing Asclepios, it might be 
 Supposed, allegiance. 
 
 What did they do when they got there ? 
 
 Did they request the Chief 
 To use them anyhow, anywhere, 
 
 In ministries of relief? 
 
 Not they. As tho' an urgent call 
 Claimed them for instant war, 
 
 They promptly 'listed, one and all, 
 In the French Flying Corps. 
 
 I told the tale, half doubtfully, 
 
 To an old invalid, 
 A strong religionist; his reply 
 
 Came back crisp as a creed. 
 
 "A very proper spirit", he said; 
 
 "Quite the right thing to do" 
 And, as he spoke, his aged head 
 
 Wagged its full sanction too. 
 
15 
 
 O Red Cross Unit, Pm inclined 
 
 To think you must have had 
 A notion in your conjoint mind 
 
 That was not wholly bad. 
 
 * at the members' own cost, and before America 
 entered the war. 
 
 Romania 
 
 FOUNDED, some eighteen hundred years ago, 
 By Trajan, as a Roman colony 
 To guard one frontier of his empery 
 From inroads of the Asiatic foe 
 That was your birth, Romania, and, tho' 
 
 O'erswept by wave on wave of savagery, 
 Still have you kept unbroke your unity, 
 And risen again from wrack and overthrow. 
 To-day you fight for what you deemed to be, 
 Aye, and what is, the Right, and, tho' betrayed 
 And wronged, have never flinched, never backed 
 
 down. 
 
 Courage, brave heart! Fight on, and you shall see 
 Your hopes fulfilled, your sacrifice repaid, 
 And your true heritage made all your own. 
 
 August 23, 1917. 
 
 Echoes from Tooley Street 
 
 fc fc \A7 E, the people of all England'" thus import- 
 W antly began 
 
 Some demand that claimed all England's voice 
 as its authority: 
 
16 
 
 Something that professed to better Magna Charta's 
 
 scope and plan. 
 
 Well, and what men, and how many, signed the 
 paper? Tailors three. 
 
 Cheek unique? Well, no; we've got a talker who 
 
 can match the three 
 Nay, can go one better than they went in calm 
 
 effrontery ; 
 
 "We will", or "We will not" thus he speaks, im- 
 plying that the "We" 
 
 Comes from Uncle Sam concentred in his per- 
 sonality. 
 
 "We will send our boys", he says, "to fight for Eng- 
 land only when 
 She has rallied hers her slackers: there are 
 
 half a million here, 
 Aye, and more at home reserves magnificent of 
 
 fighting men". 
 
 "We" that is, he claims to voice the will of half 
 a hemisphere. 
 
 Not for England is the battle, not for Belgium, not 
 
 for France; 
 Not for any single nation do the war-drums beat 
 
 their roll; 
 
 Tis the whole world's need that, clamant, bids Amer- 
 ica "Advance", 
 
 And its battle-cries are "Justice: Freedom: 
 Peace: from r>ole to pole". 
 
 Aye, and she has come to know it, and is arming for 
 the fray; 
 
17 
 
 Not for this State, nor for that State, is she 
 
 marshalling her war; 
 Voices as of many waters call her, and her actions 
 
 say 
 That which bids all lesser voices hold their peace 
 
 for evermore. 
 
 For Valour 
 
 EORGE WILSON, newsboy, who had been 
 
 A soldier, and had served his time, 
 Rejoined the Colours, being keen 
 
 To prove he hadn't passed his prime. 
 
 He hadn't; he was at his best; 
 
 Aye, and that best was good indeed; 
 The issue made him manifest 
 
 As stark in fight and staunch in need. 
 
 Hard by Verneuil, his company 
 
 By a machine-gun was annoyed; 
 
 He made his mind up speedily 
 
 That the pom-pom must be destroyed. 
 
 So, with one comrade, this true son 
 Of Mars set out on his design; 
 
 His mate soon fell; Wilson went on 
 Until he reached the firing-line. 
 
 He shot seven men who worke^d the gun, 
 Seized it, and turned it on the foe, 
 
 Till, all its ammunition done, 
 
 He reckoned that it was time to go. 
 
18 
 
 That wasn't all; as he began 
 
 To start upon his homeward tramp, 
 He spied a wounded rifleman, 
 
 And bore him safely back to camp. 
 
 What further? Later wounds, alack! 
 
 Disabled him from acts of war; 
 So to his old trade he went back, 
 
 And sells newspapers as before. 
 
 His life is now a peaceful life; 
 
 Aye, but he wears a memory 
 Of how he bore him in the strife 
 
 A bronze cross formy the V. C. 
 
 Number One 
 
 4 t 
 
 WE'VE had soft soap, a lot of it, too much of 
 it" be said 
 "Tall talk of England's glory, and the winning 
 
 of the war; 
 "What we want now" it came to this "is beef and 
 
 beer and bread, 
 
 And talk of England's glory is just soap, and 
 nothing more". 
 
 selfish soul and sordid, have you ever laid to heart 
 What glory means to England? You reckon it 
 
 renown 
 In war, but battle-glory is glory but in part, 
 
 And the glory of Old England is a spiritual 
 crown. 
 
19 
 
 Aye, it reflects the glory that rests upon the Cross, 
 Or that which painters picture in the halo of a 
 
 Saint; 
 
 It's the glory of an honour, that chooses rather loss 
 Than gain won thro' dishonour, gain that's 
 smirched by stain or taint: 
 
 It stands in the fulfilment of every promise plight: 
 In the service of the duties to which each soul is 
 
 born; 
 It takes for rules of conduct the high laws of Truth 
 
 and Right; 
 
 It champions the weak, and laughs fainthearted- 
 ness to scorn. 
 
 Redress of wrongs, world-peace secured against ty- 
 rannic Might, 
 The weal of little peoples, the bright lamp of 
 
 Freedom lit 
 This is what England seeks that she may keep her 
 
 honour bright; 
 
 This is the glory that she craves, and you you 
 mock at it! 
 
 You want your wages raised. Ah well, compare the 
 
 wage you get 
 With the pittance of the soldier who is fighting 
 
 for your homes; 
 You are of those who suffer least, and Justice will, 
 
 you bet, 
 
 Lesson you pretty sternly when the day of reck- 
 oning comes. 
 
20 
 
 Don't dare to speak of England, as tho' in any way 
 You represented what she is, or wills that you 
 
 should be; 
 Speak for yourself, and for your mates maybe, but 
 
 do not lay 
 
 Upon your souls the added guilt of a foul blas- 
 phemy. 
 
 The Doom of Ahab 
 
 AHAB served Baal, and thereby 
 Made Israel to sin; 
 He was for his iniquity 
 
 Cut off with all his kin. 
 
 Wilhelm, the self-idolator, 
 
 Makes Germany to sin; 
 He dooms to Ahab's doom therefore 
 
 Himself, and all his kin. 
 
 The greater power, the greater sin, 
 
 The greater punishment 
 Aye, and the larger; kith and kin 
 
 May share the chastisement. 
 
 Bane of the Hohenzollern' line, 
 
 Wilhelm, thy race is run; 
 And word of doom to thee and thine 
 
 Thy record is, "111 done". 
 
 A Self -Accuser 
 
 HE talks of Russia's tyranny, 
 Of France on vengeance bent, 
 Of England's shameless treachery. 
 And counts it argument. 
 
21 
 
 He but imputes himself; each lie 
 Reflects his own foul guilt; 
 
 His acts repeat the indictment aye, 
 And prove it to the hilt. 
 
 And yet he claims that history 
 Will clear him of all blame; 
 
 Nay, it will lay Cain's infamy, 
 Cain's brand, upon his name. 
 
 E'en now the fell Erinyes 
 
 Are hard upon his track; 
 They hunt him hell's winged huntresses. 
 
 And who shall call them back? 
 
 A Round Table 
 
 ever the world-war began, 
 Wall-maps, designed for use in schools, 
 Showed on one sheet the whole earth's span, 
 And on it Britain, blazoned gules. 
 
 They taught, those maps, that Britain meant- 
 Not the small British isles alone, 
 
 But a world-empire, whose content 
 Embraced five nations, blent in one. 
 
 What then was true, is yet more true 
 
 As thing are now; Great Britain still, 
 
 And Greater Britain, mean not two 
 
 Britains, but one one folk, one will. 
 
 Gules, that is, rose-red mystic hue 
 Of love, of beauty, of emprize 
 
22 
 
 To champion innocence, and renew 
 
 The fruits and flowers of Paradise. 
 
 That is the temper that unites 
 
 Them of the British family 
 In one great fellowship of Knights, 
 
 Who stand for Right and Liberty. 
 
 Tall Talk 
 
 iron will" the Reichstag's President 
 "shall turn into deeds". 
 Nay; the Hun will, and all its foul intent, 
 Shall be as broken reeds. 
 
 "The sharp steel of" what he was pleased to call- 
 
 "The clean sword in our hands 
 Shall hew the way to fortune" shall grab all, 
 
 That is, earth's seas and lands. 
 
 For bombast and for braggadocio 
 
 That well might take the cake; 
 It would perhaps, but that, if it were so, 
 
 The Kaiser's heart would break. 
 
 Vive la France! 
 
 FAIR France", we said; "Fair France", we say; 
 Still fair despite the outraging foe; 
 The beauty that is hers to-day 
 
 Is not a thing of outward show. 
 
 Beauty of pluck, of chivalry, 
 
 Of self-devotion, of romance 
 All this is hers, and bids us say, 
 
 "Ah, qu'elle est belle! Ah, la belle France"! 
 
23 
 
 Some Columbian 
 
 HE'D got his pom-pom just about 
 Rigged up upon its stand, 
 When a bit of shrapnel found him out, 
 And took off his right hand. 
 
 The Huns were passing out of range, 
 And it filled his soul with ire, 
 
 For with one hand he couldn't change 
 His pom-pom's line of fire. 
 
 What could he do ? With his left hand 
 
 He drew his pocket-gun, 
 And shot till that indignant band 
 
 Came back to< spoil his fun. 
 
 Then his machine-gun spoke, and threw 
 Death at them till they fled 
 
 All that could flee a scattered crew, 
 For most of them were dead. 
 
 Two mates, brought by a happy chance, 
 Found him, afaint with pain; 
 
 They got him to the Ambulance, 
 And he wants to fight again. 
 
 Grit 
 
 THE stretcher-bearers searched one night 
 A battle-field in France 
 To bring men wounded in the fight 
 
 Back to the Ambulance; 
 'Twas grim work; all around were lying 
 Wounded and helpless, dead and dying. 
 
" 
 
 24 
 
 They came to a sore-wounded Kelt, 
 Paused, looked at him, and said, 
 
 "He's dead"; but, as one stooped and felt 
 The corpse, it muttered, "Dead! 
 
 Not I; and" the voice grew almost strident 
 I'm hanged if I mean to die". He didn't. 
 
 Verdun 
 
 ne passe pas". They shall not pass, 
 
 France has barred the way, 
 What tho' their legions, mass on mass, 
 Batter her fenced array. 
 
 " 
 
 On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 Ere they can reach their goal, 
 French guns shall mow them down like grass, 
 And shake their tyrant's soul. 
 
 "On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 Force cannot break a will, 
 Whose motto, "Toujours de 1'audace", 
 
 Makes France unconquered still. 
 
 "On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 A mightier defence 
 Than bars of steel and gates of brass 
 
 Defies their insolence. 
 
 "On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 Heroes of long-ago , 
 By blood-bond, by 1'esprit de race, 
 
 Summoned, confront the foe. 
 
25 
 
 "On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 Roland is here, and mark, 
 Where gleam her morion and cuirass, 
 
 A vision of Jeanne d'Arc. 
 
 "On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 Not France alone says "Nay"; 
 The sword that turned the prophet's ass 
 
 Is drawn for her to-day. 
 
 "On ne passe pas". They shall not pass; 
 
 The way by which they came 
 Shall see them hurrying back, Dieu grace, 
 
 In terror and in shame. 
 
 At the Front 
 
 * fc A DVANCE, America, Advance" 
 
 '"That was the call that rang, 
 Thundered from Belgium and from France 
 By battle-roar and clang. 
 
 The Great Republic heard, and yet 
 
 Held back from day to day. 
 What made her pause as loth to set 
 
 Her battle in array ? 
 
 This that she had not yet one heart, 
 
 One undivided soul; 
 Self-centred atoms stood apart, 
 
 And each had its own goal. 
 
26 
 
 Aye, and old jealousies had place 
 
 In her perplexity; 
 Not of one mind, one will, one race, 
 
 Was all her family. 
 
 Peace-prophets preached. Europe's affairs, 
 Her wars, her aims, her need 
 
 These things were no concern of theirs; 
 That was their old-time creed. 
 
 Only the witness of events, 
 
 And what men learnt thereby, 
 
 Might weld these jarring elements 
 Into a Unity. 
 
 It came. Hearts bowed to Right's demand, 
 
 And, when the war-alarms 
 Rang out at last across the land, 
 
 A nation sprang to arms. 
 
 And now not least of those who fight 
 
 To beat the tyrant down, 
 Whose battle-words are Truth and Right, 
 
 Columbia holds her own. 
 
 "Advance, America, Advance; 
 
 Come to the front in all 
 That makes for world-deliverance 
 From 111". That's Gabriel's call. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY