The Irish standard., 1904-02-06
y 7 \ \ 4 4 4 ~ \ \ + ~ \ 4 4
WITH THE POETS :
FOnten0y.
\ \ = = = \ 4 = \ = = \ = y =

the Dutcn III VAIN aSSalleQ;
For town and slope were filled with
fort and thanking battery,
And we'll 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 Fontenoy, 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-stcady they fire,
moving right onward still,
Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy, as
through a furnace blast,
Through rampant, trench, and palisade,
and bullets showeriny fast;
And on 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 Zuydcr 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-shell, and grape, and round shot
tore, still OH they marched and
fired
Fast, from each volley, grenadicr 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 yet, my liege," SAKE interposed,
''thc Irish troops remain;'
And Fontenoy, famed Fontcnoy, had
been Il Waterloo,
Were not these eXilcs ready then,
fresh, vehement and true.
Lord Clare" lie says, you have your
WISH there are your Saxon foes"
The Marshal almost smiles to sec,
how furously he goes!
How fierce the look these eXilcs wear,
who're wont to look SO gay,
The treasured wrongs of fifty years
are in their hearts to-day
The treaty broken ere the ink where
with twas writ could dry.
Their plundered homes, tllcir ruined
slrines, their womens parting cry,
Their priesthood hunted down like
wolves, their country ovcrLhrown,
Each looks, as if revenge for all were
staked on him alone.
On Fontenoy. on Fontcnoy, nor ever
yet elsewhere,
Rush on to fight Il nobler band than
these proud cXiles were.
O'Brien's voice is hoarsc with joy, as,
halting he commands,
"FiN bay'nets' - Charge" - Like
mountain-stornl, rush on these
fiery bands!
Thin is the English column now, and
faint their vollcys grow,
Yet, mustring all the strength they
have they make Il 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 clutclcd in their
hands the hcadlong Irish broke.
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, bark to
that fierce hnZza
"Rcvenge! remember Limerick! dash
down the Sassenagh!'
Like lions lcaping at fold, when mad
with hungers pang,
Right up against the English line the
Irish eXiles sprang:
Bright was their steel. tits bloody
now, their guns are filled with
gore;
Through shattered ranks, and severed
files, and trampled flags they tore;
The English strovc 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!