Each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but on him ; Still-could we watch at all points? we were every day fewer and fewer. There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper that past: “Children and wives—if the tigers leap into the fold unawares Every man die at his post-and the foe may outlive us at last Better to fall by the hands that they love, than to fall into theirs!" Roar upon roar in a moment two mines by the enemy sprung Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades. Rifleman, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be as true! Sharp is the fire of assault, better aim'd are your flank fusillades Twice do we hurl them to earth from the ladders to which they had clung, Twice from the ditch where they shelter we drive them with hand-grenades ; And ever upon our topmost roof the banner of England blew. V. Then on another wild morning another wild earthquake out-tore Clean from our lines of defence ten or twelve good paces or more. Rifleman, high on the roof, hidden there from the light of the sun One has leapt up on the breach, crying out : Follow me, follow me!"— Mark him he falls! then another, and him too, and down goes he. Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but the traitors had won? Boardings and rafters and doors—an embrasure! make for the gun! way Now double-charge it with grape! It is charged and we fire, and they run. Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face I have his due! Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us, faithful and few, Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them, and smote them, and slew, That ever upon the topmost roof our banner in India blew. VI. Men will forget what we suffer and not what we do. We can fight, But to be soldier all day and be sentinel all thro' the night Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms. Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and soundings to arms, Ever the labour of fifty that had to be done by five, Ever the marvel among us that one should be left alive, Ever the day with its traitorous death from the loopholes around, Ever the night with its coffinless corpse to be laid in the ground, Heat like the mouth of a hell, or a deluge of cataract skies, Stench of old offal decaying, and infinite torment of flies, Thoughts of the breezes of May blowing over an English field, Cholera, scurvy, and fever, the wound that would not be heal'd, Lopping away of the limb by the pitiful-pitiless knife,— Torture and trouble in vain,—for it never could save us a life. Valour of delicate women who tended the hospital bed, Horror of women in travail among the dying and dead, Grief for our perishing children, and never a moment for grief, Toil and ineffable weariness, faltering hopes of relief, Havelock baffled, or beaten, or butcher'd for all that we knew Then day and night, day and night, coming down on the still-shatter'd walls Millions of musket-bullets, and thousands of cannon balls But ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. VII. Hark cannonade, fusillade! is it true what was told by the scout, Outram and Havelock breaking their way through the fell mutineers ? Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears! All on a sudden the garrison utter a jubilant shout, Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers, Sick from the hospital echo them, women and children come out, Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers, Kissing the war-harden'd hand of the Highlanders wet with their tears! Dance to the pibroch !—saved! we are saved!—is it you? is it you? Saved by the valour of Havelock, saved by the blessing of Heaven! "Hold it for fifteen days!" we have held it for eightyseven ! And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew. TENNYSON. K XLIX. ALBERT THE GOOD. AND indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my own ideal knight, |