The Dorset County Express and Agricultural Gazette.
Dorchester, Dorset, England, 1878-03-05 00:00:00

WAR SONGS FOR THS MILLION.

ft is the traditional business of the poet or the song-
maker to shape into language the burning thoughts
that struggle for utterance in the intensest moods of
national feeling, and to translate into melody and
rhythm the aspirations ce • multitude which is too
patriotic to be articulate. On the whole, we in
England have no reason to be ashamed of any lack of
patriotic songs and spirit-stirring tunes. Campbell
and Dibdin both caught the inspiration of the gl 'wing
times in which they lived, and have written several
admirable lyrics. We cannot, indeed, always be sure
of wedding perfect music with perfect words. The
" Ratcatcher's Daughter," as • poetical power, was
not impressive; hut it went to a lively air, and was
found to answer marching purposes very well in the
Crimea. Nor is there any doubt that, if we ever go to
war again, " Tommy. make Room for your Uncle,"
the "Two Ohediahs," and '• They all do ft" would be
found highly exhilarating strains by the British eolier
In the onset of battle.

Meanwhile, it is instructive to study the sentiments
of the civilian crowd of Englishmen who stay at home
at ease, as these are expounded by the song-waken,
who, according to the old theory, are the true prophets
and the only real legislators. We have now before us
some dozen lyrics which will forth storms of applause
nightly. They are all of them concerned in some way
or other with the present oriels, and most of them
treat of the conventional attributes of the British lion.
On the title-page of one of the eerie, this noble quad-
ruped is depicted dozing in an armchair, with one eye
open, a Union Jack flying behind him, in the distance
a frigate at anchor, a line of railway and • few
factory-towers, the object evidently being to convey
an idea of the magnitude of his material resources.
The exigencies of rhyme compel the poet to glorify the
king of beasts, specks Britalutica, as "a noble scion"
" proud in his COn*Ciolls might"—" The terror of those
he has made his foes, For he ever defends the right."
A child may handle him, and indeed there is only one
liberty he will not karmit—" Beware how you tread
on his tail ;" a m 'main which recalls the familiar
story of the high-mettled but insulted husband, who
on being kicked down-stairs gave vent t, a threat
couched in very similar language. It would be
interesting to posperitv to have the comments of some
German or Amgen schoiiaat on the following stanza :
"His foes at best are knaves contest,
Whose malice from envy springs :
And it oft betides his giant sides
They pierce with orna,-like stings,
Sot he merely yawns, for the thought nee, dawns
Such pigmies to assail,
1111. grosrn more bold his sloth to behold,
They venture to tread on his tail."
This, it seems necessary to state, is not sarcasm, but
patriotic panegyric. and it is desirable to supplement
the chorus of another .if these oompositions, especially
conspicuous for the ethicss of its doggerel, with the
same cereal:

" For Russia not a rush we care, her threat+ we all defy
The lion still can fight the bear as in the days gone by..
A valuable contribution this to the facts of contem•
history. Indeed the knowledge of current
pored
events, and their real drift, which is shown
In these lyrics, is surpriaing :
"There are some who nein to say—let RUSSIA hams her
way.
And drive the Tnrks from Europe evermore;
But then they little dream of the very artful scheme
The REIM6IIII laid when forcing on this war.
If Turkey they should beat and take from her her fleet.
They'd stop nor Eastern pathway very plain
And no looter should we he the ruler, of the sea,
Nor certain of our Indian domain."
This in all clear enouzb ; but when we pet to
"The celebrated n,te that brave Llrii taerby wrote
. . .

Will Ants them just exactly what we ncean
They wish us to &mei., and th. their ends achieve,
But through their crafty paltry we've esen.."—
we begin to feel a little perplexed. The "brave Lord
DerhY" has written, and unwritten. "so many
celebrated notes," that we are not quite certain to
which of the series allusion may be 011,113 here. How-
ever, it is all right. doubtless. As our Tyrtrus rather
badly Amur. no. 'our course of conduct now is very
clear. It is not, indeed. explained • but every true
Briton knows what it to, and as for the result,

' While Ensland aril her sons, her vessels, and her gun 3.
No one 'ball harm her in the least ;
Well sbna the Russian Oun, the son of men we are,
And we mean to keep our Empire in the East."
" Our Empire in the East" is the watchword of several
of theme precious ditties, and in some of them • more
or less specific policy for its maintenance is proposed.
Turkey, it is admitted, is in an evil plight, and the
Turk may have his fault.; but then we are reminded
the Russian is as mock saint, "like sly Reynard,"—
" They alanghered well at Khiva, in Siberia, ley cold,
How many subjects dons to death will never perhaps be
told"
(the history and the poetry, it may be remarked in
passing, are better than the grammar), and the
indepeolence of Turkey is essential to the security of
our
'Eastern Empire. Therefore these lyriets, like the
Dtsfy TdeprapA, whose most moving articles they
have by heart—indeed, the whole of the compoaitions
before ns may be described as D. T. leaders arranged
in metrical form—cannot allow the execution of any-
thing like a bag-and-baggage policy. This is the
remonstrance which we are informed England
addressee to Russia :

"Said the lion, 'l'm the kind; I think you've had your
fling;
Ws time that I should have a word to say.
You've nearly done your worst, but you'll conquer
Britons first,
If you take the Turkey's body clean away.'
The same pretence to political prevision and insight
into diplomatic counsels is not made by all the
minstrels of the music-hail. Some are contented with
lyrically assuring their hearers that the English sailor
I. "ready when wanted." The chorus in this stirring
ballad is noteworthy, for it shows the skill of its
author to adapt heroic strains to the festive jingling
of glasses and the aroma of vile tobacco in the popular
hails of pleasure :
" I laugh and lung. I mutt have my fling, a sailor is
happier far than a king
Though jolly and gay on the ma or the shore, he's ready
when wanted, and true to the core."
Others are martial exhortations not to chow the white
feather, fervid protestations that, though at peace, we
are still on guard, and ennobling appeals to the British
flag. In a song specially decline to this symbol of
national strength we read ;
" I'm satisfied there's no decay
In British pith and pluck ;
Before the world well bare missy.
And trust to streaga—not las&
We've moans I inert right I ys:ssooautton sense I

—We've
130—hang tit. question of sxminse
Old England's Ragland still r
The chorus is:—

"Titus was that England at • WI
Was ready for • row. •
I shouldn't like to bosttat all,
But seal am do if wow r
Odd as it may seem, the author of this edger senseless
drivel is not Mr. llsodermott, but a gentleman who
ought to know better, 3dr: Robert Lemon And even
an accomplished We/raker like Mr. C. W. Scott, who
has written pleasant and polished verses his time,
falls to the lowest depth of claptrap when • perverse
fate tempts him to try his hand at this species of
composition:
11,e stands a post come, behold it, and beware.
Here stands • post; 'tis • signal, not • snare.
Here sum& • ;oat yes, but who bail put It there
Why, better men than you: so, touch it, if you dare r