THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE HALF a league, half a league, "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, 17 Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred. III. Flashed all their sabres bare, they turned in air Flashed as th Sabring the gunners there, All the world wondered:' Reeled from the sabre-stroke, Shattered and sundered. Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered: Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wondered. 49 1854 Honour the charge they made! Noble six hundred! 55 Lord Tennyson. THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY OCTOBER 25, 1854 THE charge of the gallant three hundred, the Down the hill, down the hill, thousands of Thousands of horsemen, drew to the valley and stay'd; For Scarlett and Scarlett's three hundred were riding by When the points of the Russian lances arose in the sky; And he call'd "Left wheel into line!" and they wheel'd and obey'd. Then he look'd at the host that had halted he knew not why, And he turn'd half round, and he bade his trumpeter sound To the charge, and he rode on ahead, as he waved his blade To the gallant three hundred whose glory will never die "Follow," and up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, Follow'd the Heavy Brigade. The trumpet, the gallop, the charge, and the might of the fight! Thousands of horsemen had gather'd there on the height, With a wing push'd out to the left and a wing to the right, And who shall escape if they close? but he Thro' the great gray slope of men, 12 Wedged themselves in between horse and horse, Fought for their lives in the narrow gap they had made Four amid thousands! and up the hill, up the hill, Gallopt the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade. Fell like a cannonshot, Crash'd like a hurricane, Broke thro' the mass from below, 25 Brave Inniskillens and Greys Whirling their sabres in circles of light! Who were held for a while from the fight, When the dark-muffled Russian crowd Folded its wings from the left and the right, O mad for the charge and the battle were we, And we turn'd to each other, whispering, all dismay'd, 'Lost are the gallant three hundred of Scarlett's Brigade!" Lost one and all were the words But they rode like Victors and Lords Ranged like a storm or stood like a rock 45 |