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Youthful Patriot.



you in the first flight of the Quorn,
 * One who never turned his gallant head asido

From bank or ditch, from double rail or thorn,
 * Or from any brook however deep and wide;

I know the love your owner on you spent;
 * I know the price he put upon your speed;

And I know he gave you freely, well content,
 * When his country called upon him in her need.

I have seen you in the bondage of the camp
 * With a a heel-rope on a pastern raw and red,

Up and fighting at the stable-picket's tramp
 * With the courage of the way that you were bred;

I have seen you standing, broken, in the rain,
 * Lone and fretting for a yesterday's caress;

I have seen your valour spur you up again
 * From the sorrow that your patient eyes express.

Now in dreams I see your squadron at the Front,
 * You a war-horse with a hero on your back,

Taking bugles for the horn-blast of the hunt,
 * Taking musketry for music of the pack;

Made and mannered to the pattern of the rest,
 * Gathered foam—and maybe blood—upon your rein,

You'll be up among the foremost and the best,
 * Or we'll never trust in Leicestershire again!





Nor theirs to triumph yet; but, where they stood, Falling, to dye the earth with brave men's blood For England's sake and duty. Be their name Sacred among us. Wouldst thou seek to frame Their fitting epitaph? Then let it be Simple, as that which marked Thermopylæ:— "Tell it in England, thou that passest by, Here faithful to their charge her soldiers lie." 