BY AVELLINA BALESTRI

Dedicated to the memory of Major Francis Peirson, killed at the Battle of Jersey, January 6, 1781

***

The ink of capitulation is still wet

Upon curling parchment,

And the words of surrender still moist

Upon curling lips,

White, both parchment and lips,

With the fear of death,

Swearing there is no other way,

Bidding all others bow their heads.

But here comes the youth,

Four and twenty years on earth,

With hair like corn

And eyes like steel,

And lips like blood,

Prepared to kiss death’s mouth

When hot lead cleaves his heart.

Heart of oak, with roots in water,

Island’s son, with an island grave,

Who will prepare his body for burial,

When we cease to live fiercely

And perish striving?

They say, surrender;

They order it with authority.

The age of pride is ended,

And the long disgrace begun.

The colonies have crumbled,

And the banners are bruised.

This is of little worth, they say;

A chunk of dirt in the channel

Easily ceded in the to-and-fro

Of rival realms.

Surrender; live out your years.

Earn your gray hairs

And grandchildren on your knee.

He disobeys.

For Britannia is as young

As she is old,

Wild in the eye

Like the rush of the rain,

And sunny in the hair

When the light pierces through,

Having died ten thousand times

And risen from the deep.

So Pierson rallies

As the royal statue stands

And the flag of union flies,

Colors cutting through the smoke,

Saints strapped to their crosses,

Beasts flanking the crown,

And men baring their blades,

Thrust into foreign breasts!

Death, death, death,

For honor in this dirt,

Bought with British blood

Till the ending of the age!

And it’s up with the Highlanders!

The black watch and the bearskin!

Bear the mountains on your backs

And beat down the ones who say:

Surrender! There is no other way!

Beat the drum till it bursts,

And go to God like Men!

And so flows the hair, golden,

And so flows the gore, crimson,

And so close the eyes, silver

When the sun kissed the clouds,

And death kissed his mouth,

And he was put to sleep

In the arms of his soldiers,

Scarlet seeping through white,

And his spirit was sent forth,

Sword dangling from his side.