2ND U. E. LOYALIST. Yes, affairs make me so. Such stirring times Since Brock returned and opened Parliament! Read you his speech? 1ST U. E. LOYALIST. That from the Throne? 2ND U.E. LOYALIST. Ay, that! 1ST U.E. LOYALIST. You need not ask, since 'tis on every tongue, Unstaled by repetition. I affirm Words never showered upon more fruitful soil To nourish valour's growth. 2ND U. E. LOYALIST. That final phrase-- Oh it struck home: a sentence to be framed And hung in every honourable heart For daily meditation. "_We are engaged in an awful and eventful contest. By unanimity and dispatch in our councils, and by vigour in our operations, we may teach the enemy this lesson, that a country defended by free men, enthusiastically devoted to the cause of their king and constitution, can never be conquered._" 1ST U. E. LOYALIST. That reaches far; a text to fortify Imperial doctrine and Canadian rights. Sedition skulks, and feels its blood a-cold, Since first it fell upon the public ear. 2ND U. E. LOYALIST. There is a magic in this soldier's tongue. O language is a common instrument; But when a master touches it--what sounds! 1ST U. E. LOYALIST. What sounds indeed! But Brock can use his sword Still better than his tongue. Our state affairs, Conned and digested by his eager mind Draw into form, and even now his voice Cries, Forward! To the Front! 2ND U. E. LOYALIST. Look--here he comes! 1ST U.E. LOYALIST. There's matter in the wind; let's draw a-near. [_Enter_ GENERAL BROCK, _accompanied by_ MACDONELL, NICHOL, ROBINSON _and other Canadian Officers and friends conversing_.] BROCK. 'Tis true our Province faces heavy odds: Of regulars but fifteen hundred men To guard a frontier of a thousand miles; Of volunteers what aidance we can draw From seventy thousand widely scattered souls. A meagre showing 'gainst the enemy's If numbers be the test. But odds lie not In numbers only, but in spirit too-- Witness the might of England's little isle! And what made England great will keep her so-- The free soul and the valour of her sons; And what exalts her will sustain you now If you contain her courage and her faith. So not the odds so much are to be feared As private disaffection, treachery-- Those openers of the door to enemies-- And the poor crouching spirit that gives way Ere it is forced to yield. ROBINSON. No fear of that! BROCK. I trust there is not; yet I speak of it As what is to be feared more than the odds. For like to forests are communities-- Fair at a distance, entering you find The rubbish and the underbrush of states, 'Tis ever the mean soul that counts the odds, And, where you find this spirit, pluck it up-- 'Tis full of mischief.