The Winner of the Queen's Prize at Rifle Shooting, Wimbledon, 1866.

'When wine and other liquors were pressed upon him after he was proclaimed victor, he refused to partake of anything save a draught of ginger-beer, he being a strict teetotaller.'

Brave Cameron, it needs not the lore of the seer,
In this the bright dawn of thy youthful career,
To tell what the future for thee has in store,
'For coming events cast their shadows before.'
Brave Cameron, 'twas not on the red field of fight,
Where death-shots are pealing and swords gleaming bright,
'Twas where wine-cups were brimmed for the lord of the prize,
The gift of Victoria, the good and the wise.
Brave Cameron, full well was thy courage envinced
In a scene where the bravest have faltered and winced,
When true to thy pledge and thy principles high,
When the wine-cup was proferred thou motioned it by.
Brave Cameron, true Cameron, thy country, I ween,
With pride thy rare skill as a marksman has seen;
More dearly she greets thee, young, gallant, and true,
Unscathed by an ordeal borne bravely by few.
Brave Cameron, through life be thou ever the same,
Unfailing in practice, unerring in aim,
Unswerving in principle, honour, and truth,
Thy laurels in age be as green as in youth!