THE VOLUNTEER’S SONG.

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 4, Issue 180, 1 March 1860, Page 4

THE VOLUNTEER’S SONG.

[The following verges written by Mr. Smith, of Adelaide, are (with the substitution of New Zealand for Australia) copied from the Adelaide Observer.']

Sons of the South, shall foeman’s hand Rend from us this fair heritage ? Shall Frank or Russian hold this land In southern history’s unwrit page ? No, God forbid I : No heaven forfend! Better win blood-red glorious biers, Than meanly live—gain coward’s end. Up, laggards, join our Volunteers !. New Zealand’s sons, arise! awake 1 Be men, dismiss all craven fears;

For country, home, for altar’s sake, Enrol amongst our Volunteers !

On well-fought fields of sunny Spain, On'Belgium’s plain, along the Rhine, Has England’s blood been poured like rain, Been freely shed as festal wine ! Wherever blows the wind* where rains The rain, where’er the sun doth shine, Has freemenls blood from Britons’ veins Been gaily shed as festal wine.

Wave England’s flag, that sweeps the seas, Unrol St. Andrew’s banner free, Let Erin’s green harp kiss the breeze, Resistless each, unconquer’d three. With shamrock, thistle, rose, who’d dare, With such proud heirlooms who would dare To cherish craven coward’s fears ? : : For daughter, wife, for “ ladye fayre,” All, all would join our Volunteers. When comes the day the ruthless heel Of foreign foe shall press our; strand, When comes the day invader’s steel Shall fiercely flash athwart our land, : From suburb, street; from lane, from square, At signal fire, at rolling drum, Our gallant hearts, with martial air, In swelling stream, will hurrying come. _

Fast, fast along the eager wires The stirring news of war will run, From mountain crest the beacon fires Will far outshine the morning sun; From every gully, south and north, From distant plain, from out the tiers, The bristling rifles will rush forth Our brave New Zealand Volunteers 1 And when the latest foe is driven, With sullen tread, back to the sea, On bended knee we’ll thank high heaven That our fair island home is free! For they who live the victor’s crown, -For they who fall a nation’s tears, A.nd history’s brightest page hands down Your gallant deeds, brave Volunteers.