At Aershot, up leap'd of a sudden the sun, The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other prick'd out on his track; ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! By Hasselt, Dirck groan'd; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! As down on her haunches she shudder'd and sank. So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; "How they'll greet us!"— and all in a moment his roan Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Call'd my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer; Clapp'd my hands, laugh'd and sang, any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland gallop'd and stood. And all I remember is friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; Was no more than his due who brought good news from Theirs not to reason why, Cannon to right of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Into the jaws of Death, Rode the six hundred. Flash'd all their sabres bare, All the world wonder'd: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd. Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, When can their glory fade? Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred! Alfred Tennyson THE "REVENGE" A BALLAD OF THE FLEET, 1591 At Florès in the Azorès, Sir Richard Grenville lay, away: "Spanish ships-of-war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "Fore God I am no coward; But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?" Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward; You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." So Lord Howard passed away with five ships of war that day, Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven; But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land Very carefully and slow, Men of Bideford in Devon, And we laid them on the ballast down below; For we brought them all aboard, And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord. He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight, And he sailed away from Florès till the Spaniard came in sight, With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. "Shall we fight or shall we fly? Good Sir Richard, tell us now, There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set." Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe, |