I found this poem most poignant and thought it should be given new exposure after 94 years, with its full title and heading :-
To the Memory of the Royal Irish Constabulary
Who fought and fell in the Rebellion in Ireland, 1916
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" Ave Atque Vale "
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Not their's on foreign fields to die
By Prussian shot or shell ;
They rest beneath an Irish sky,
On Irish soil they fell.
Comrades in battles of renown
Died with the Guards' Brigade,
These wearing still the Harp and Crown
Met death, too, unafraid.
No bugles cheered them on their way.
Nor hopes martial fame;
Plain duty calls and they obey,
Heedless of praise or blame.
Not their's the silken flag that shows
Proud battle honours won,
Who only fought with rebel foes,
Outnumbered ten to one.
Oh,foul the crime, by Irish hands
Poor Erin's sons are slain;
What answer when the Judge demands-
"Where is thy brother, Cain ? "
Of this rest sure, ye gallant few,
When Gabriel's trumpet shall sound
Th'assembly for the Grand Review
Your ranks will there be found.
More heroes sleep'neath foreign skies,
Strange feet above them tread;
The Green Isle, too, shares this rich prize-
The Empire's valiant dead.
Loftus Dale
Ref/ Page 209,The Royal Irish Constabulary Magazine-May-June 1916
