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PEACE WITH DISHONOUR.
Over an anxious land,
From sea to sea,
Echoes a wild demand,
"Can it be? Can it be?"
Can we have heard aright.
Is it but fancy's flight.
Or tidings black as night.
Shame and Disgrace ?
Peace ! with the foe in front.
Boasting his victory !
Britons ! 'twas once your wont
Rather to die !
Then — have we all forgot ? —
Though they might scheme and plot,
Men fought for England — not
Party and Place !
What from the camp descried,
Mean the forms flying ?
What, this receding tide ?
Can it be England's pride.
Hurled down Majuba's side.
Wounded and dying ?
Still — though brave lives are lost,
England can pay the cost,
Forward another host !
Fortune defying !

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