The Defence of Lucknow

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"Children and wives-if the tigers leap into the fold una

wares

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 aimed are your flank fusilades

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 the topmost roof our 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 leaped 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 trait

ors had won?

Boardings and rafters and doors-an embrasure! make way for the gun!

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 have his

due!

Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us, faith

ful 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 through the

night

Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms, Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and sound

ing to arms;

Ever the labor 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 healed,

Lopping away of the limb by the pitiful-pitiless knife,— Torture and trouble in vain-for it never could save us a

life;

Valor 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 butchered for all that we knew

Then day and night, day and night, coming down on the still shattered walls,

Millions of musket-bullets, and thousands of cannon-balls-But ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew.

The Relief of Lucknow

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VII

Hark cannonade, fusilade! 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 fusil

eers,

Kissing the war-hardened hand of the Highlander wet with their tears!

Dance to the pibroch!-saved! we are saved!-is it you? is

it you?

Saved by the valor of Havelock, saved by the blessing of Heaven!

"Hold it for fifteen days!" we have held it for eighty-seven! And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew.

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW

[SEPTEMBER 26, 1857]

Он, that last day in Lucknow fort!

We knew that it was the last;
That the enemy's lines crept surely on,
And the end was coming fast.

To yield to that foe meant worse than death;
And the men and we all worked on;
It was one day more of smoke and roar,
And then it would all be done.

There was one of us, a corporal's wife,
A fair, young, gentle thing,
Wasted with fever in the siege,

And her mind was wandering.

She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid,

And I took her head on my knee;

"When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said, "Oh! then please wauken me."

She slept like a child on her father's floor,
In the flecking of woodbine-shade,
When the house-dog sprawls by the open door,
And the mother's wheel is stayed.

It was smoke and roar and powder-stench,
And hopeless waiting for death;

And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child,
Seemed scarce to draw her breath.

I sank to sleep; and I had my dream
Of an English village-lane,

And wall and garden;-but one wild scream
Brought me back to the roar again.

There Jessie Brown stood listening

Till a sudden gladness broke

All over her face; and she caught my hand
And drew me near as she spoke:-

"The Hielanders! O! dinna ye hear
The slogan far awa'?

The McGregor's. O! I ken it weel;
It's the grandest o' them a'!

"God bless the bonny Hielanders!

We're saved! we're saved!" she cried;

And fell on her knees; and thanks to God
Flowed forth like a full flood-tide.

Along the battery-line her cry

Had fallen among the men,

And they started back;-they were there to die;

But was life so near them, then?

The Relief of Lucknow

They listened for life; the rattling fire
Far off, and the far-off roar,

Were all; and the colonel shook his head,
And they turned to their guns once more.

But Jessie said, "The slogan's done;
But winna ye hear it noo,→→→

The Campbells are comin'? It's no a dream;
Our succors hae broken through!"

We heard the roar and the rattle afar,
But the pipes we could not hear;
So the men plied their work of hopeless war,
And knew that the end was near.

It was not long ere it made its way,→
A thrilling, ceaseless sound:
It was no noise from the strife afar,
Or the sappers under ground.

It was the pipes of the Highlanders!

And now they played Auld Lang Syne, It came to our men like the voice of God, And they shouted along the line.

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And they wept, and shook one another's hands,
And the women sobbed in a crowd;

And every one knelt down where he stood,
And we all thanked God aloud.

That happy time, when we welcomed them,
Our men put Jessie first;

And the general gave her his hand, and cheers
Like a storm from the soldiers burst.

And the pipers' ribbons and tartans streamed,
Marching round and round our line;
And our joyful cheers were broken with tears,
As the pipes played Auld Lang Syne.

Robert Traill Spence Lowell (1816-1891]