Sonnet.
I love to see you each upon his steed,1
Ye Yeomanry of England, once agen2
Ready, with spur and sword, to serve our need,3
After the fashion of the ancient men4
Of England.—War has been too much a trade.—5
Among our Sires it was a Service paid6
By peaceful livers—part as pastime plied7
By Peasant and by Lord, because, that then8
As now, it was their duty and their pride9
To fight, with the same Omen, side by side,10
For the same regal Banner. Therefore stay11
Your ploughshares ever and anon—as now12
With patriot steel prepared, and Christian vow,13
To shield our sacred soil from the Anarch’s sway.14