The discouragements of Tom Wydeawake and his few compeers were remarkable.

He himself might fairly have claimed the honours of origination, discussed some two or three years ago, but he left them to others--_Sic vos non vobis_, &c." "Without mentioning names, several--since distinguished as prominent in Rifledom--were once, to my certain knowledge, and still to be evidenced by their extant letters, bitterly opposed to the whole movement,--and I cannot conclude these remarks better or more appositely than by adding here, with real dates, the three following ballads, which tell their own tale briefly and suggestively." I print them here, as they are now to be found nowhere else.
The first, published in newspapers during June 1859 (following several others of a like character, with my name or without it), was the origin of the Volunteers' motto--being headed _Defence not Defiance._ "Nearer the muttering thunders roll, Blacker and heavier frowns the sky,-- Yet our dauntless English soul Faces the storm with a steady eye; Hands are strong where hearts are stout; Our rifles are ready--look out! "No one wishes the storm to roll here-- No one cares such a devil to raise,-- And in brotherhood, not in fear, Only for peace an Englishman prays,-- Yet he may shout in the midst of the rout, Our rifles are ready--look out! "Keep to your own, like an honest man, And here's our hand, and here's our heart, Let the world see how wisely you can Play to the end a right neighbourly part,-- But if mischief is creeping about, Our rifles are ready--look out! "No defiance is on our lips, Nothing but kindliness greets you here; Still, in the storm our dolphin ships Round the Eddystone dart and steer,-- And on shore--no doubt, no doubt-- Our rifles are ready--look out! "Not Defiance, but only Defence, Hold we forth for humanity's sake,-- And, with the help of Omnipotence, We shall stand when the mountains quake: Only in Him our hearts are stout; Our rifles are ready--look out!" _A Rhyme for Albury Club._ "A rhyme for the Club, for the brave little Club That stoutly went forward when others held back, And, reckless of many a sneer and a snub, Steer'd manfully straight upon Duty's own tack,-- Though quarrelsome peacemongers did their small worst, In spite of their tongues and in spite of their teeth, We stood up for England among the few first, With rifles and targets on Surrey Blackheath! "Time was when Tom Wydeawake, ten years agone, Toil'd to arouse dull old Britain betimes, By example--he shouldered his rifle alone, By precept--he showered his letters and rhymes,-- With bullets he peppered old Sherborne's hillside, With ballads and articles worried the Press,-- The more he was sneer'd at, the stronger he tried, And would not be satisfied short of Success.
"And now is his Fancy the front of the van, And England an archer, as in the past years, And stout middle age carries arms like a man, And all the young fellows are smart Volunteers: And Herbert, and Elcho, and Spencer, and Hay, And Mildmay, and all the best names in the land On a national scale achieve grandly to-day What Wydeawake schemed with his brave little band! "Then cheers for the Queen! for the Club! and the Corps! For Grantley, and Evelyn, and Sidmouth, and all; With Franklin, and Mangles, and six dozen more, The first to spring forth at Britannia's call! And long may we live with all peaceably here-- For olive, not laurel, is Glory's true wreath-- But if the wolf comes, he had better keep clear Of a Club of crack shots upon Surrey Blackheath!" _July 1860._ And the third is a small record of our Easter Monday's Review, 1864, alluding to the present universality of the Rifle Movement contrasted with its originally small beginnings on the same spot.
_Surrey Blackheath._ "Surrey Blackheath! old scene of beginnings Humble enough some dozen years back, Gather to-day's rich harvest of winnings, Sprung of that sowing in Memory's track; Reap your revenges in honour and pleasure;-- Thousands of riflemen arm'd to the teeth-- Crowds by ten thousands, in holiday leisure, Throng the wild beauties of Surrey Blackheath! "We were the first our rifles to shoulder, First to wake England (though voted a bore); First in this nation who roused her, and told her She must go arm'd to be safe, as of yore! Those were the days before corps and their drilling, When the true patriot was check'd with a snub,-- So, on Blackheath, devotedly willing, Stood your first riflemen--Albury Club! "Yes, we stood _here_, in spite of their coldness, Duty's first marksmen--whate'er should betide,-- Conquering Success--the sure fruit of boldness-- World-witnessed now by this field-day of pride! And though they laugh'd at Tom Wydeawake's fancies, Olives and laurels combine in his wreath; For, the world's peace--in England's and France's-- Sprung of that sowing on Surrey Blackheath!" _March 5, 1864._ Lord Lovelace will remember how much he opposed our rifle-club,--as in those days illegal, and so the Lord-Lieutenant of Surrey might not sanction it: but now his Lordship is our leading volunteer.

Besides the three ballads above, I wrote seven others which rang round the land, and some of them, as "Hurrah for the Rifle," and "In days long ago when old England was young," have been sung at Wimbledon and other gatherings.
It may be worth while, seeing the ballads are hopelessly out of print, if I here transcribe a few stanzas from divers other staves I penned in the early days of Rifledom.

First, from "Rise, Britannia," before mentioned, which was "written and printed in 1846, and then headed, by a strange anticipation, a stirring song for patriots in the year 1860:" reproduced in my now extinct "Cithara," in 1863: I wrote it to be sung to the tune of "Wha wouldna fecht for Charlie:" even as afterwards I adapted my "In days long ago when old England was young" to "The roast-beef of old England," published with my own illustration by Cocks & Co.:-- "Rise! ye gallant youth of Britain, Gather to your country's call, On your hearts her name is written, Rise to help her, one and all! Cast away each feud and faction, Brood not over wrong nor ill, Rouse your virtues into action, For we love our country still, Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia! Raise that thrilling shout once more, Rise, Britannia! rule, Britannia! Conqueror over sea and shore!" After three stanzas which I will omit, the last is "Rise then, patriots I name endearing,-- Flock from Scotland's moors and dales, From the green glad fields of Erin, From the mountain homes of Wales,-- Rise! for sister England calls you, Rise! our commonweal to serve, Rise! while now the song enthrals you Thrilling every vein and nerve,-- Hail, Britannia! hail, Britannia! Conquer, as thou didst of yore; Rise, Britannia! rule, Britannia! Over every sea and shore!" Another noted alarum, sounded in January 1852, commences thus:-- "Englishmen, up! make ready your rifles! Who can tell now what a day may bring forth?
Patch up all quarrels, and stick at no trifles,-- Let the world see what your loyalty's worth! Loyalty ?--selfishness, cowardice, terror Stoutly will multiply loyalty's sum, When to astonish presumption and error Soon the shout rises--the brigands are come!" After four stanzas of happily unfulfilled prognostication, the last is-- "Up then and arm! it is wisdom and duty; We are too tempting a prize to be weak: Lo, what a pillage of riches and beauty, Glories to gain and revenges to wreak! Run for your rifles, and stand to your drilling; Let not the wolf have his will, as he might, If in the midst of their trading and tilling Englishmen cannot--or care not to--fight!" One only stanza more, the last of another also in 1852.
"Arm then at once! If no one attack us Better than well, for the rifle may rust; But if the pirates be coming to sack us, Level it calmly, and God be your trust! Only, while yet there's a moment, keep steady; Skilfully, duteously, quickly prepare,-- Then with a nation of riflemen ready, Nobody'll come because no one will dare!" In those days of a generation back, so great was the scare everywhere of Napoleon's rabid colonels a-coming that I remember my brother Arthur counselling me to sink our plate down a well for safety; and Mr.
Drummond in a pamphlet exhorted the creation of refuges round the coast by getting the owners of mansions to fortify them as strongholds, filling the windows with grates and mattresses, and loopholing garden-walls for shots at marauders on the roads! Yet, so sleepy was the British Lion that neither Drummond nor I, nor even the _Times_, which I invoked, could wake him up for many years: and the Volunteer movement did not take effect till Louis Napoleon kindly urged Palmerston to check his rabid colonels by a bold front of preparation.
I am minded to finish with a mild anecdote which carries its moral.

Now, understand that I never pretended to be a crack shot, though I did make fair practice through "the Indian twist," the sling supporting one's arm; if I hit the target occasionally, I was satisfied.