WAR

A War Song to Englishmen

Prepare, prepare the iron helm of War,

Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;

The Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,

And casts them out upon the darkened earth!

Prepare, prepare!

Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare

Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth;

Prepare your arms for glorious victory;

Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!

Prepare, prepare!

Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine!

Why sinks my heart, why faltereth my tongue?

Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause,

And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.

Prepare, prepare!

The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!

Angels of Death stand in the lowering heavens!

Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,

And walk together on the clouds of heaven!

Prepare, prepare!

Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause;

Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:

Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:

Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!

Prepare, prepare!

Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;

The Norman William, and the learned Clerk,

And Lion Heart, and black-browed Edward, with

His loyal Queen, shall rise, and welcome us!

Prepare, prepare!
William Blake

For Soldiers

Ye buds of Brutus' land, courageous youths, now play your parts;

Unto your tackle stand, abide the brunt with valiant hearts.

For news is carried to and fro, that we must forth to warfare go:

Men muster now in every place, and soldiers are prest forth apace.

Faint not, spend blood,
To do your Queen and country good;
Fair words, good pay,
Will make men cast all care away.

The time of war is come, prepare your corslet, spear and shield;

Methinks I hear the drum strike doleful marches to the field;

Tantarâ, tantarâ, ye trumpets sound, which makes our hearts with joy abound.

The roaring guns are heard afar, and everything denounceth war.

Serve God; stand stout;
Bold courage brings this gear about.
Fear not; fate run;
Faint heart fair lady never won.

Ye curious carpet-knights, that spend the time in sport and play;

Abroad and see new sights, your country's cause calls you away;

Do not to make your ladies' game, bring blemish to your worthy name.

Away to field and win renown, with courage beat your enemies down.

Stout hearts gain praise,
When dastards sail in Slander's seas;
Hap what hap shall,
We sure shall die but once for all.

Alarm methinks they cry, Be packing, mates, begone with speed;

Our foes are very nigh; shame have that man that shrinks at need!

Unto it boldly let us stand, God will give Right the upper hand.

Our cause is good, we need not doubt, in sign of coming give a shout.

March forth, be strong,
Good hap will come ere it be long.
Shrink not, fight well,
For lusty lads must bear the bell.

All you that will shun evil, must dwell in warfare every day;

The world, the flesh, and devil, always do seek our soul's decay;

Strive with these foes with all your might, so shall you fight a worthy fight.

That conquest doth deserve most praise, where vice do yield to virtue's ways.

Beat down foul sin,
A worthy crown then shall ye win;
If ye live well,
In heaven with Christ our souls shall dwell.
Humphrey Gifford

Battle-Hymn of the Republic

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;

His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:

"As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,

Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat;

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

While God is marching on.
Julia Ward Howe

"I Heard a Soldier"

I heard a soldier sing some trifle

Out in the sun-dried veldt alone:

He lay and cleaned his grimy rifle

Idly, behind a stone.

"If after death, love, comes a waking,

And in their camp so dark and still

The men of dust hear bugles, breaking

Their halt upon the hill,

"To me the slow, the silver pealing

That then the last high trumpet pours

Shall softer than the dawn come stealing,

For, with its call, comes yours!"

What grief of love had he to stifle,

Basking so idly by his stone,

That grimy soldier with his rifle

Out in the veldt, alone?
Herbert Trench

The Dug-Out

Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,

And one arm bent across your sullen cold

Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,

Deep-shadowed from the candle's guttering gold;

And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;

Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head ...

You are too young to fall asleep for ever;

And when you sleep you remind me of the dead.

Siegfried Sassoon

Nocturne

Be thou at peace this night

Wherever be thy bed,

Thy slumbering be light,

The fearful dreams be dead
Within thy lovely head;

God keep thee in His sight.

No hint of love molest

Thy quiet mind again;

Night fold thee to her breast

And hush thy crying pain;
Let memory in vain

Conspire against thy rest.

So may thy thoughts be lost

In the full hush of sleep.

Lest any sight accost

Thine eyes to make them weep,
In darkness buried deep

For ever be my ghost.

Edward L. Davison

The Dead

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.

The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,

And sunset, and the colours of the earth.

These had seen movement, and heard music; known

Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;

Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;

Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter

And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,

Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance

And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white

Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,

A width, a shining peace, under the night.

Rupert Brooke