THE BATTLE OF BATOCHE.

We were waiting for the signal In our lines before Batoche; Ready, eager, and expectant For the grand and final rush. For three days we had been fighting— On the rebels’ pits we’d rained A furious and pelting fire, And our advance maintained. All along our lines ’twas whispered “We storm the pits to-morrow,” And a thrill of valor swept our ranks, Dispelling care and sorrow. We laid the smoking rifle by When the shades of night drew on, And grouped about the camp-fire’s light To await the morrow’s dawn. And some sang songs of home and love, And some of martial glory; And merry laugh responsive came To pun, or stirring story. The sentries paced their lonely round; All silent was the scene Save for here and there a dropping shot From pit or dark ravine. The soldier sank to peaceful rest, The earth his slumber-bed; The night winds crooned a lullaby, The stars beamed o’er his head. And all, perhaps, were thinking then Of loved ones far away— Brave hearts, that ere the morrow’s eve Should perish in the fray. From Nova Scotia far they came, Quebec, and Ontario; Manitoba’s fearless sons were there, Ready to face the foe. All there to stamp rebellion out And the grand “Old Flag” to save; “A united empire” for us all, And to traitor hordes a grave! The thunder of the frowning gun Roused up that soft May dawn; The bugles blared the reveille Beside the Saskatchewan; And there was forming in “hot haste,” Beside the flowing stream. The sun shone on our gleaming steel All peaceful and serene. And Williams, with the Midlanders, Formed on the left with cheers, And Grassett on their right deployed His Royal Grenadiers. The valiant Ninetieth in support To the right the line prolonged, And Boulton, with his mounted men, Near to their right wing thronged. The Surveyors’ scouts moved to the right To prolong the line again, And Boulton’s mounted infantry Formed near the open plain; And French’s scouts held the extreme right, Poised like eagles for their prey; Montizambert with his guns moved up, For a moment held at bay. Howard and Rivers their gatling Placed by the Ninetieth’s side, And prepared to sweep the plain With their missiles far and wide. And down the stream the Northcote lay With the Infantry School corps, To upward move and draw the fire Of the foe from either shore. And bravely Major Smith performed This trying duty that day, Though fiercely assailed he sternly held The wild western shore at bay. A gallant corps, deserving well Of our country and our Queen; History records your daring deeds On that far storied stream. The infantry brigade was led By the gallant Straubenzie, Full of resource, with eagle eye Safe vantage ground to see. At the zareba Haughton stood, Cool, intrepid under fire; His men his spirit emulate In chivalric desire. And thus formed up that fearless line, As steady as on parade; The light of battle on each face— Of such are true heroes made. The signal at last is given, The bugles ring out “advance”; The general ’s in position; We’re under his flashing glance. With a ringing cheer we greet him, That war-worn veteran gray, The hero of a hundred fights In strange lands far away. His hand directed wise and well; For him the heartfelt shout; His strategy and deep resource Put the rebel hordes to rout. “Forward!” now along the line Rings our leader’s fearless tone; And with quick bursts of rousing cheers We enter the fire zone. And the Metis open upon us From pit and dark ravine; Pelting like fierce hail about us Comes a deadly leaden stream. We pause, and return upon them Such a fire as shakes the hills; Montizambert’s guns tear through them, And our lines with confidence thrills. Jarvis’s battery joins the left, And thunders beside the stream; And Howard’s gatling is raging— From its lips the missiles scream. ’Twas dreadful, the roar and tumult, But our men rise above fear; Ha! the Midlanders and Grens rush on, Winning the first line with a cheer. “Forward, now, with the bayonet!” Rings out along the whole line, And a cheerful, responsive cry Rose from a valor sublime. Forward, now, dauntless Midlanders, And brave Royal Grenadiers! And, gallant Ninetieth, sweep the plain; Ring out, ring out defiant cheers! And, Boulton, with your mounted men, Rush on the doomed rebels, too: Ye ’re not the corps to pause nor shrink When there’s daring work to do! Ho, scouts! to the front; forward, too, Rush like mad upon the foe; A French leads on, ye need not doubt; Strike with might a crushing blow! Montizambert, let your guns rage, And Howard’s gatling gun scream, And rend the rebel pits and lines, And shake the trembling stream! The decisive moment had come— Forward! forward! side by side; “Charge home!” the general ordered, With manly, confident pride. And the ring of our flashing steel Greeted his lionlike eye, And we swept like a besom on With a thrilling battle-cry. Gallantly and swiftly onward With a mighty rush we go, And burst like a pent-up torrent On the desperate fighting foe. Like chaff by the wind we swept them From pit and from dark ravine; The bayonet was effectual, And withering as a flame. Aye, we struck the pits and ravines In our fiery onward roll, But not for a single moment Was the charge beyond control. Hand to hand we taught them a lesson They ne’er will forget again, And broken and beaten they fled Over the wide death-strewn plain. From line to line we pressed them, Turning their right on our way; Clearing their works with our lines of steel, And thus deciding the day. From every point we charged them, Till Batoche lay at our feet; The rebels were utterly ruined, And our victory complete. And we pulled their bunting down, And hoisted the Old Flag again, And a storm of heartfelt greeting Rolled in thunder o’er the plain. And we cheered for Queen and country, And our chief we loved so well, And silently dropped a tear For those who in fighting fell. Mournfully to the muffled drum, At the smile of another dawn, We put our gallant dead away By the dark Saskatchewan; And we wept as never before, And silently marched away, Leaving them there at peace and rest Till dawn of the judgment day. My country, forget thou them not, Nor the close of that sad scene; They dared their all for the flag they loved, And died for country and Queen. Revere, then, that hallowed place; Their life was no idle dream; Honor the brave dead far away By the dark and storied stream.