The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
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SIR DE LACY EVANS
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 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
311
SIR DE LACY EVANS
AT INKERMAN.
“On the heights of Inkerman you displayed that undaunted courage
and chivalrous conduct which have called forth the admiration of your
country; when, rising from a bed of sickness, you hastened to assist with
your counsel and experience the gallant officer in temporary command of
your division, and refused to withhold from him the honours whilst you
shared with him the dangers of the day.”
—The Speaker of the House of Commons to Sir De Lacy Evans.
In a heavy fog their watch they kept
On the heights of Inkerman,
Down their bayonets coldly the raindrops crept
When that dreary day began.
Up through the mist from the leaguered town
The bells of the churches pealed,
And the pickets from the heights looked down
Where the valley lay concealed.
On the heights of Inkerman,
Down their bayonets coldly the raindrops crept
When that dreary day began.
Up through the mist from the leaguered town
The bells of the churches pealed,
And the pickets from the heights looked down
Where the valley lay concealed.
312
In the dead of the night, ere the dawn was grey,
The sound of artillery wheels
Rumbled faintly—“They come this way,”—
Uneasy the sentry feels.
“'Tis the arabas on the road below,”
Deceived, the soldiers said;
For they heard not the voice of their cautious foe,
Nor his army's stealthy tread.
The sound of artillery wheels
Rumbled faintly—“They come this way,”—
Uneasy the sentry feels.
“'Tis the arabas on the road below,”
Deceived, the soldiers said;
For they heard not the voice of their cautious foe,
Nor his army's stealthy tread.
In the city at midnight a solemn mass
Was sung by bishops seven,
Who promised that those who fell should pass
At once to the joys of heaven.
The Emperor sent his own dear son
To encourage the troops—said he,
“The besiegers before the year is done
Must be driven into the sea!”
Was sung by bishops seven,
Who promised that those who fell should pass
At once to the joys of heaven.
The Emperor sent his own dear son
To encourage the troops—said he,
“The besiegers before the year is done
Must be driven into the sea!”
In the fleet that anchored near the shore
In Balaklava bay,
Roused by the cannon's opening roar
From the sick-bed where he lay,
A pale knight rose at the sound of war,
Like a hunter at the horn,
For glorious music rolled afar
That dark November morn.
In Balaklava bay,
Roused by the cannon's opening roar
From the sick-bed where he lay,
A pale knight rose at the sound of war,
Like a hunter at the horn,
For glorious music rolled afar
That dark November morn.
313
With an anxious heart the sick knight rode,
For he knew one point was weak;
And long ere then did his fears forebode,
And he spoke when he ought to speak.
But his good advice was thrown away,
And the men were tired and few,
That in the cloud defenceless lay
When the balls came flying through.
For he knew one point was weak;
And long ere then did his fears forebode,
And he spoke when he ought to speak.
But his good advice was thrown away,
And the men were tired and few,
That in the cloud defenceless lay
When the balls came flying through.
Arrived on the field, he refused to take
From his junior's faithful hand
His brave division; and still for its sake
Advised, though he would not command.
The danger he shared, but the post and name
Of a leader resigned to his friend,
Though he rose from a sick-bed and painfully came
To be with them until the end.
From his junior's faithful hand
His brave division; and still for its sake
Advised, though he would not command.
The danger he shared, but the post and name
Of a leader resigned to his friend,
Though he rose from a sick-bed and painfully came
To be with them until the end.
With their bayonets crossed in deadly strife,
Closely, breast to breast,
Steady and stern they fought for life
On the mountain's awful crest:
And down in many a deep ravine,
And many a lonely glen,
Were bloodiest contests held unseen
By bands of desperate men.
Closely, breast to breast,
Steady and stern they fought for life
On the mountain's awful crest:
And down in many a deep ravine,
And many a lonely glen,
Were bloodiest contests held unseen
By bands of desperate men.
314
'Twas a terrible day, yet calm and pale
The sick knight saw it through;
But a time must come when the strong limbs fail,
If the spirit fails not too:
And he said, “I am old, I have earned repose,
Let me die in my native land!”
And this chivalrous effort marked the close
Of the hero's long command.
The sick knight saw it through;
But a time must come when the strong limbs fail,
If the spirit fails not too:
And he said, “I am old, I have earned repose,
Let me die in my native land!”
And this chivalrous effort marked the close
Of the hero's long command.
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