Classic Poem

I stood on Queenston Heights;
And as I gazed from tomb to cenotaph,
From cenotaph to tomb, adown and up,
My heart grew full, much moved with many thoughts.
At length I cried:
" O robed with honour and with glory crowned,
Tell me again the story of yon pile. "
And straight the ancient, shuddering cedars wept,
The solemn junipers indued their pall,
The moaning wind crept through the trembling oaks
And, shrieking, fled. Strange clamour filled the air;
The steepy hill shook with the rush of arms;
Around me rolled the tide of sudden war.
The booming guns pealed forth their dreadful knell;
Musketry rattled; shouts, cries, groans, were heard;
Men met as foes, and deadly strife ensued.
From side to side the surging combat rolled,
And as it rolled, passed from my ken.
A silence! On the hill an alien flag
Flies flaunting in the wind, mocking the gun.
Dark forms pour o'er the heights, and Britain's day
Broods dark.
But hark! a ringing cheer peals up the height
Once more the battle's tide bursts on my view.
Brock to the rescue! Down goes the alien flag!
Back, back the dark battalions fall. On, on
The " Tigers " come. Down pours the rattling shot
From out the verdant grove, like sheets of hail.
Up, up they press, York volunteers and all.
Aha! the day is ours! See, where the hero comes
In conquering might, quick driving all before him!
O brave ensample! O beloved chief!
Who follows thee keeps ever pace with honour.
Shout Victory! Proud victory is ours!
Ours, noble Brock!
Ours? DEATH'S! Death wins; THE DAY IS HIS.

Ah! shudder still ye darkling cedars,
Chant yet your doleful monotone, ye winds;
Indue again your grey funereal pall,
Ye solemn junipers; for here he fell,
And here he lies, — dust; ashes; nothing.

Such tale the hill-side told me, and I wept.
Nay! I wept not! The hot, indignant thoughts
That filled my breast burned up the welling tears
Ere they had chance to flow, and forward Hate
Spake rashly. But calm Reflection
Laid her cool hand upon my throbbing brow
And whispered, " As up the misty stream
The Norseman crept to-day, and signals white
Waved kind salutes from yon opposing shore;
And as ye peered the dusky vista through,
To catch first glimpse of yonder glorious plinth,
Yet saw it not till I your glance directed, —
So high it towered above the common plane; —
So, towering over Time, shall Brock e'er stand. —
So, from those banks, shall white-robed Peace e'er smile.