The vast barbarian horde swept down with hate, To crush the -valiant hand who dared oppose. Wondering that such a handful should await The mighty onslaught or overwhelming roes. The crash of savage host, ’mid murderous rain Of red-flamed death, for thirty hours they stood, And showed a world—in spita of sneers—again The old-time British skill and fortitude. Wave after wave the foe rolled fiercely on, Time after time it broke as sea on rook, Hour after hour, with strength now almost ' gone, Tho heroic hand of Britons stood the shock. Yet all in vain. No courage could withstand Such direful odds and hope for victory; Unohocrcd bv help which should have been at band, They had to yield to the oncoming sea. Yet there was no engulfing by the flood. With dauntless courage and by sublime skill Thov checked each billow crested now with ) blood. ! And reached their rearward hope i<n- • daunted still. 1 No rout nor panic touched them as they fled, Milo after mile, til rgh two-score were passed; They fought, like heroes, leaving heroes dead, i And touched their goal unbroken to the j last. And Time shall tako this deed and call it * good. To wo who mourn a jewel it shall be, To mark hi memory how Britons stood At Mons, a glorious defeat and victory. And thou, vile master of a ruthless horde. Who hast defiled God's name with treaotu crons tongue, And girt blood-lusted millions with the sword, The damned of Hell ihon’lt find thy plaoa among. M. Powell. Dunedin,
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MONS., Evening Star, Issue 15650, 14 November 1914
MONS. Evening Star, Issue 15650, 14 November 1914
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