POETRY.
A SONG OF BATTLE. IMPERATOR MILITIBUS BUIS.
CHARGE, bayonets, charge! But gently, not too wildly ! For fear they "buckle in," prod not too hard ! Out, sabres, out ! But, mind you, use them mildly ! Perhaps they're safer only kept on guard.
Hold your revolvers ready ! If some barrels
(Say, two or three) shall not discharge their ball, There'll be some Arabs left for future quarrels ;
A generous army would not kill them all.
On, then, remembering that your arms are brittle !
"England expects" her soldiers not to waste : For though, 'tis true, they cost the country little, Yet, if they're broken, they must be replaced.
On, then, brave Atkins, stalwart, strong, and fiery !
Whoever blunders, you are always game : And then a Parliamentary inquiry Will show, some years hence, who it was to blame. B.
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