And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a

cloud

Whence the thunderbolt will fall

Long and loud,

Four galleons drew away

From the Spanish fleet that day,

And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay, And the battle-thunder broke from them all.

But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself and went, Having that within her womb that had left her ill content; And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,

For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers, And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his

ears

When he leaps from the water to the land.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea,

But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fiftythree.

Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons

came,

Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle thunder and flame;

Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead

and her shame.

For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could

God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

For he said "Fight on! fight on!"

Though his vessel was all but a wreck;

And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was

gone,

With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,

But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead, And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head, And he said "Fight on! fight on!"

And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the

summer sea,

And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in

a ring;

But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still

could sting,

So they watch'd what the end would be.

And we had not fought them in vain,

But in perilous plight were we,

Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,

And half of the rest of us maim'd for life

In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark

and cold,

And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all

of it spent ;

And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;

But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,

"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night

As may never be fought again!

We have won great glory, my men!

And a day less or more

At sea or ashore,

We die does it matter when?

Sink me the ship, Master Gunner! sink her! split her in twain ! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain !"

And the gunner said "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply: "We have children, we have wives,

And the Lord hath spared our lives.

We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow."
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe,
And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at
last,

And they praised him to his face with a courtly foreign grace;
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried :

"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and

true;

I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:

With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!"
And he fell upon their decks, and he died.

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap
That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,
And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew,
And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own;
When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from
sleep,

And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,

And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and

their flags,

And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain,

And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW

BANNER of England! not for a season, O banner of Britain, hast thou

Floated in conquering battle or flapt to the battle-cry!

Never with mightier glory than when we had rear'd thee on

high

Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of Lucknow Shot thro' the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised thee

anew,

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with

our lives

Women and children among us, God help them, our children and wives!

Hold it we might—and for fifteen days or for twenty at most. "Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post!"

Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Lawrence, the best of the brave:

Cold were his brows when we kiss'd him, we laid him that night in his grave.

Every man die at his post!" and there hail'd on our houses and halls

Death from their rifle bullets, and death from their cannon

balls,

Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight barricade,

Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stoopt to the spade,

Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often there fell

Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro' it, their shot and their shell.

-

Death for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told of our best,

So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that could think

for the rest;

Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at our feet

Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels that girdled us

round-,

Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of a

street,

Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death in the ground!

Mine? yes, a mine! Countermine ! down, down! and creep thro' the hole!

Keep the revolver in hand! you can hear him

the murderous

mole! Quiet, ah! quiet-wait till the point of the pickaxe be thro'! Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer again than be

fore

Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no

more;

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew !

Ay, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on a day

Soon as the blast of that underground thunderclap echo'd

away,

Dark thro' the smoke and the sulphur, like so many fiends in their hell

Cannon-shot, musket-shot, volley on volley, and yell upon yell

Fiercely on all the defences our myriad enemy fell.

What have they done? where is it? Out yonder. Guard the Redan!

Storm at the Water-gate! storm at the Bailey-gate! storm! and it ran

Surging and swaying all round us, as ocean on every side Plunges and heaves at a bank that is daily drown'd by the tide

So many thousands that if they be bold enough who shall escape ?

Kill or be kill'd, live or die, they shall know we are soldiers

and men!

Ready! take aim at their leaders—their masses are gapp'd with our grape

Backward they reel like the wave, like the wave flinging forward again,

Flying and foil'd at the last by the handful they could not subdue;

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. Handful of men as we were, we were English in heart and

limb,

Strong with the strength of the race to command, to obey, to endure,

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 un

awares

-

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.

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 upon 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

for the gun!

an embrasure! make 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 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. Men will forget what we suffer and not what we do.

fight!

We can

But to be soldier all day and be sentinel all thro' the night —