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Work without hope, there was not life in it
Whereby the man could live; and as the year
Roll'd itself round again to meet the day

When Enoch had return'd, a languor came 820 Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually

Weakening the man, till he could do no more,
But kept the house, his chair, and last his bed.
And Enoch bore his weakness cheerfully.

For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck 825 See thro' the gray skirts of a lifting squall

The boat that bears the hope of life approach
To save the life despair'd of, than he saw
Death dawning on him, and the close of all.

For thro' that dawning gleam'd a kindlier hope 830 On Enoch thinking, “after I am gone,

Then may she learn I lov'd her to the last.”
He call'd aloud for Miriam Lane and said
“ Woman, I have a secret — only swear,
Before I tell you

swear upon the book 835 Not to reveal it, till you see me dead.”

“Dead," clamor'd the good woman, “hear him talk; I warrant, man, that we shall bring you round.” “Swear," added Enoch sternly, “on the book."

And on the book, half-frighted, Miriam swore. 840 Then Enoch rolling his gray eyes upon her, 66 Did


know Enoch Arden of this town?“ Know him ?” she said, “I knew him far away. Ay, ay, I mind him coming down the street;

Held his head high, and cared for no man, he.” 845 Slowly and sadly Enoch answer'd her:

“ His head is low, and no man cares for him.
I think I have not three days more to live;
I am the man.” At which the woman gave


A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry.
- You Arden, you ! nay, sure he was a foot
Higher than you be.” Enoch said again

My God has bow'd me down to what I am;
My grief and solitude have broken me;

Nevertheless, know you that I am he 855 Who married — but that name has twice been

changed -
I married her who married Philip Ray.
Sit, listen." Then he told her of his voyage,
His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back,

His gazing in on Annie, his resolve,
860 And how he kept it. As the woman heard,

Fast flow'd the current of her easy tears,
While in her heart she yearn'd incessantly
To rush abroad all round the little haven,

Proclaiming Enoch Arden and his woes;
865 But awed and promise-bounden she forbore,

Saying only, “ See your bairns before you go!
Eh, let me fetch 'em, Arden,” and arose
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch hung
A moment on her words, but then replied.


“Woman, disturb me not now at the last, But let me hold my purpose till I die. Sit down again; mark me and understand, While I have power to speak. I charge you now When

you shall see her, tell her that I died 875 Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;

Save for the bar between us, loving her As when she lay her head beside my own. And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw 865. Bounden, an old form of bound, here used, doubtless, in large measure for the metre's sake.

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So like her mother, that my latest breath
880 Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.

And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blest him too;
He never meant us any thing but good.
But if


children care to see me dead,
885 Who hardly knew me living, let them come,

I am their father; but she must not come,
For my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my blood,

Who will embrace me in the world-to-be : 890 This hair is his : she cut it off and gave it,

And I have borne it with me all these years,
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,

My babe in bliss : wherefore when I am gone, 895 Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:

It will moreover be a token to her,
That I am he.”


He ceased ; and Miriam Lane Made such a voluble answer promising all,

That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her 900 Repeating all he wish'd, and once again

She promised.

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Then the third night after this, While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale, And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,

There came so loud a calling of the sea, 905 That all the houses in the haven rang.

He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad,
Crying with a loud voice “ A sail! a sail !
I am saved ;” and so fell back and spoke no more,

So past the strong heroic soul away.
910 And when they buried him the little port

Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.


The Charge of the Light Brigade was first printed in a London daily newspaper in December, 1854, with a note by the author saying it was prompted by his “reading the first report of the Times' correspondent, where only six hundred and seven sabres are mentioned as having taken part in the charge." Balaklava, where the charge took place, was the British headquarters, in the Crimean War, from September, 1854, to June, 1856 ; the charge itself was made October 25, 1854. From the military point of view it was an absurd and hopeless movement. The order which occasioned it was a blunder. Captain Nolan, on whom it fell to deliver the command, was the first man to die.

In the volume of 1855, the poem appeared considerably amended, but the changes were so criticised that the poet restored the lines more nearly to their original form. Moreover, he had a thousand copies of them printed in leaflets for distribution among the soldiers before Sebastopol ; for he had heard how they liked the poem, and wanted them, as he said in a note printed with it, “ to know that those who sit at home love and honor them.”


HALF a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.
5 "Forward the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” he said :
Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

II. “ Forward the Light Brigade ! ” 10 Was there a man dismay'd ? Not tho' the soldier knew

Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
15 Theirs but to do and die :
Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.


Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them, 20 Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd: Storm’d at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death, 25 Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.


Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,

Sabring the gunners there, 30 Charging an army, while

All the world wonder'd : Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro’ the line they broke ;

Cossack and Russian 35 Reel'd from the sabre-stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.

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