Here Riall came up with twelve hundred more, To the help of Drummond, bleeding and sore: Twelve hundred Canadians and regulars to stand To the death for this proud Canadian land. The brave foe brought up reinforcements, too, Determined Drummond’s lines to pierce through; And they close in a mad, mad rush again, And the roar of the hot guns shake the plain. Lurid, red flashes illumine the night, Revealing a moment the dreadful sight Of the lines struggling there in the gloom, Where hundreds go down to a gory doom. But Drummond the foemen foiled everywhere, And disheartened, on the verge of despair, At the midnight hour they fled from the field,-- Broken and beaten, they were forced to yield. Throwing their baggage in the stream, in fright They fled away in a desperate plight. The moon had risen o’er the pitiful scene, Her lovely face, all mild and serene, Lighting up the horror of carnage there, Revealing the ghastly and upward stare Of pale, dead faces peering out of the gloom, Just touched by the silvery midnight moon. Lay them away on the hard-fought field Where the musketry volleyed and cannon pealed! War’s tumult shall rouse them again no more, The heroic dead by the river’s shore. Slumber on, brave hearts! ye do battle no more Near Niagara’s awesome, eternal roar! Oh, land of the Maple Leaf so fair, Breathe even to-day a fervent prayer For those intrepid souls who, fighting, fell For home and country they loved so well. Canadians! tell it--repeat it again-- How our fathers stood there at Lundy’s Lane, With the regulars fearlessly side by side-- Stood there as heroes, conquered and died. To rescue this land from the invader’s tread That field was piled with immortal dead. MY WIFE. I want her woman’s kisses, I want her love and truth And e’er as kind and gentle As in the days of youth. I want her e’er beside me, Not enslaved, but free; A help in time of trouble, And a comfort unto me. We’d share life’s joys together, Of its ills bear equal part; In storm, or sunny weather, Trust each other’s faithful heart. I’d have her loving counsel When perplexed with care; When the clouds are lowering, And threatening everywhere. I’d hear her happy laughter Rippling light and gay; And list her sweet voice singing Tender songs, that drive away The petty irritations That fret life’s every day, And if not quickly banished Turn the bluest skies to gray. I want her with the children To guard their tender feet; To soothe and ever bless them With her presence fair and sweet. ’Tis mother’s subtle influence That makes or mars us all: By her early lessons given We either rise or fall.