Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/111

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OUR COUNTRY'S CALL.
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See, from a thousand coverts—see, Spring the armed foes that haunt her track;They rush to smite her down, and we Must beat the banded traitors back.
Ho! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave, And moved as soon to fear and flight,Men of the glade and forest! leave Your woodcraft for the field of fight.The arms that wield the axe must pour An iron tempest on the foe;His serried ranks shall reel before The arm that lays the panther low.
And ye, who breast the mountain storm By grassy stoop or highland lake,Come, for the land ye love, to form A bulwark that no foe can break.Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock The whirlwind, stand in her defence;The blast as soon shall move the rook As rushing squadrons bear ye thence.
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