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On the crest of Abram’s heights,
Victorious in a thousand fights,
The Scottish broad-sword won our rights
Wi’ fatal sweep.
Then when the Gaul shall ask again,
Who called us here across the Main?
Each Scot shall answer, bold and plain,
"Wolfe sent me here!"
Be men like those the hero brought.
With their best blood the land was bought;
And fighting as your fathers fought,
Keep it or die!
A
Saint
Andrew’s dinner here brings to mind the famous National
Banquet, at Halifax, in 1814, at which the sturdy Haligonian Scots sat
out, mirabile dictu, fifty-two toasts. Some of these toasts were
very apposite, others sound strangely to us, after a lapse of sixty-six
years.
We subjoin some of the most singular
healths drank: to understand the pith of which, one has to recall the
warlike era of 1814.
11th. To Alexander, the Emperor of
the Russians
12th. "
the Emperor of Austria
13th. "
the King of Prussia
14th. "
Louis XVIII. May he recollect the nation which
afforded him protection during the unprecedented trouble of his country,
and was the chief cause in restoring him to the throne of France. Air—"
The White Cockade."
15th. " Congress of
Vienna
22nd. "
British Commissioners at Ghent
26th. A rather humorous one. "May James Madison and
all his
faction be soon compelled to resign the reins of Government in America,
and seek a peace establishment with their friend Bonaparte at Elba." Airs—
"The Rogue’s March" and "Go to the Devil and shake yourself." (Such
sentiments have long since passed away.)
29th. To General Count Platoff and his brave Cossacks. Air— "The Cossack."
31st. To the gallant Veteran Blucher.
36th. To the memory of General Moreau.
40th. To the memory of Prince Kutusoff and all those who have fallen in
the defence of the liberties of Europe. |
