POETRY.
THE MEN OF ULSTER.
WHAT of the men of Ulster P Will they merely stand in the gate,
On watch and.ward for the Province, in the hour of England's fate?
Would they be men of Ulster, were such their Captain's call, To reek of naught but themselves alone, though the Empire stand or fall P Dear to the men of Ulster are her sunlit fields and bays, The whirr of the loom, and the hammer's ring, and the harvest of toiling days; And dearer yet is the birthright, won by their sires of old, Their heritage for ever, not to be bought or sold.
But dearest to men of Ulster is the Empire's far-flung line, Where her eons have sped, and toiled and bled, 'neath the palm-tree and the pine; Where White has fought and Dufferin wrought, and their spirits hover still, Bidding to deeds of high emprise, and valour, and iron will.
So, forward the men of Ulster for the Empire and the King! Though their own fate be in debate, no thought of wavering! The sword half-drawn on her own behoof in Ulster's red right hand Will leap from the scabbard, and flash like fire, for the common Mutherland.
What of the men of Ulster P Hark to their armed tread, As they turn their backs on the Province, and face to the front instead.
And wherever the fight is hottest, and the sorest task is set, Ulster will strike for England—and England will not forget I F. S. BOAS.
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