The Irish standard., 1904-02-06
4 4 \ = 4 4 4 4 4 4 \ + \ 4 \ 4 4
WITH The POETS :
Fontenoy.
\ = + 4 4 4 4 4 = 4 4 = 4 = = 4

the Dutcn Ill VAIN aSSllleu;
For town and slope were filled with
fort and thanking battery,
And well they swept the English
ranks, and Dutch auxiliary.
AS vainly, through De. Barri's wood,
the British soldiers burst,
The French artillery drove them back,
diminished and dispersed.
The bloody Duke of Cumberland be-
held with anxious eye,
And ordered up his last reserve, his
latest chance to try.
On Fontenoy, on Fontcnoy. how fast
his generals ride!
And mastering come his chosen troops
like clouds of eventide.
Six thousand English veterans in state
ly column tread,
Their cannon blaze in front and flank,
Lord Hay is at their head;
Steady they step adown the slope
steady they climb the hill;
Steady they load-steady they fire,
moving right onward still,
BetwiNt the wood and Fontenoy, as
through a furnace blast,
Through rampant, trench, and palisade,
and bullets slowering fast;
And Oh the open plain above they rose,
and kept their course,
With ready fire and grim resolve, that
Knocked at hostile force:
Past Fontenoy, past Fontenoy, while
thinner grows their ranks
They break, as broke the Zuyder Zee
through Hollands ocean banks.
More idly than the summer flies.
French tirailleurs rush round;
AS stubble to the lava tide, French
squadrons strew the ground;
Bomb-shcll and grape, and round shot
tore, still OH they marched and
fired
Fast, from each volley, grenadier and
voltigeur retired.
"Push on, my household cavalry!
King Louis madly cried;
10 death my rush, but rude their
shock not unavenged they died.
On through the camp the column trod
king Louis turns his rein;
''Not vet, my liege," SAKE intcrposed,
''the Irish troops remain;"
And Fontenoy, famed Fontenoy, had
been Waterloo,
Were not these eXilcs ready then,
fresh vehement, and true.
Lord Clare he says, ''you have your
wish, there are your Saxon foes"
The Marshal almost smiles to see,
how furiously he goes!
How fierce the look these cXiles wear,
who're wont to look SO gay,
The treasured wrongs of fifty years
are in their hearts today
The treaty broken, ere the ink where
with twas writ could dry,
Their plundcrcd homes, tllcir ruined
shrines, their women's parting cry,
Their priesthood hunted down like
wolves, their country overthrown,
Each looks, as if revenge for all were
stalled on him alone.
yet elsewhere,
Rush on to fight Il nObler band than
these proud eXilcs were.
O'Brien's voice is hoarse with joy, as,
halting he commands,
'FiX bay'nets" - charge - Like
mount:ill-storm, rush OH these
fiery bands!
Thin is the English column now, and
faint their vollcys grow,
Yet, must'ring all the strength they
have they make a gallant show.
They dress their ranks upon the hill
to face that battle wind
Their bayonets the breakers foam; like
rocks, the men behind!
One volley crashes from their line,
when, through the surging smoke
With empty guns clntched in their
hands the hcadlong Irish broke.
On Fontcnoy, on Fontenoy, bark to
that fierce huZza!
Revenge! remember Limerick! dash
down the SaSSpnagh.'
Like lions lcaping at fold, when mad
with hunger's pang,
Right up against the English line the
Irish cXiles sprang:
Bright was their steel, tits bloody
now, their guns are filled with
gore;
Through shattered ranks, and severed
files, and tramplcd flags they tore;
The English strove with desperate
strength, paused, rallied, stag
gered, fled
The green hillside is matted close
with dying and with dead;
Across the plain and far away passed
on that hideous wrack,
While cavalier and fantassin dash in
upon their track.
On Fontenoy, on Fontcnoy, like eagles
in the sun,
With bloody plumes the Irish stand
the field is fought and won!