 | A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems |  |
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THE RELIEF.
(FROM “HAVELOCK'S MARCH.”)
There Lucknow lies before them — all its pageantry unrolled.
Against the smiling sapphire gleam her tops of lighted gold.
Each royal wall is fretted all with frostwork and with fire;
A glory of colour, jewel-rich, that makes a splen dour-pyre,
As wave on wave the wonder breaks; the pointed flames burn higher
On dome of Mosque and Minaret, on pinnacle and spire:
Fairy creations, seen mid-air, that in their pleasaunce wait,
Like wingëd creatures sitting just outside their heaven-gate.
The city in its beauty lies, with flowers about her feet:
Green fields and goodly gardens make the foul thing fair and sweet!
Against the smiling sapphire gleam her tops of lighted gold.
Each royal wall is fretted all with frostwork and with fire;
A glory of colour, jewel-rich, that makes a splen dour-pyre,
As wave on wave the wonder breaks; the pointed flames burn higher
On dome of Mosque and Minaret, on pinnacle and spire:
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Like wingëd creatures sitting just outside their heaven-gate.
The city in its beauty lies, with flowers about her feet:
Green fields and goodly gardens make the foul thing fair and sweet!
The Bugle rings out for the march, and with its proudest thrill,
Goes to the heart of Havelock's men, working its lordly will;
Making their spirits thrill as leaves are thrill'd in some wild wind;
Hunger and heartache, weariness and wounds, all left behind.
Their sufferings all forgotten now, as in the ranks they form,
And every soul in stature rose to wrestle with the storm!
All silent. What was hid at heart could not be said in words.
With faces set for Lucknow, ground to sharpness, keen as swords.
A tightening twitch all over! a grim glistening in the eye;
“Forward!” and on their way they strode, to dare, and do, and die.
Goes to the heart of Havelock's men, working its lordly will;
Making their spirits thrill as leaves are thrill'd in some wild wind;
Hunger and heartache, weariness and wounds, all left behind.
Their sufferings all forgotten now, as in the ranks they form,
And every soul in stature rose to wrestle with the storm!
All silent. What was hid at heart could not be said in words.
With faces set for Lucknow, ground to sharpness, keen as swords.
412
“Forward!” and on their way they strode, to dare, and do, and die.
Hope whispers at the ear of some that they shall meet again
And clasp their long-lost darlings, after all the toil and pain.
A-many know that they will sleep to-night among the slain
And many a cheek will bloom no more for all the tearful rain.
And some have only vengeance, but to-day 'tis bitter-sweet!
And there goes Havelock, his the aim too lofty for defeat.
With steady tramp the Column treads, true as the firm heart's beat,
Strung for its headlong murderous march thro' that long fatal street.
All ready to win a soldier's grave, or do the daring deed,
But not a man that fears to die for England in her need.
The masked Artillery raked the road and ploughed them front and flank.
Some gallant fellow every stride was stricken from the rank.
But, as he staggered, in his place another sternly stepped,
And firing fast as they could load their onward way they kept.
Now, give them the good bayonet! with England's fiercest foes,
Strong arm, cold steel will do it, in the wildest, bloodiest close!
And now the bayonets abreast go sternly up the ridge,
And with another charge they take the guns and clear the bridge.
One good home-thrust! and surely as the dead in doom are sure
They send them where the British cheer can trouble them no more.
And clasp their long-lost darlings, after all the toil and pain.
A-many know that they will sleep to-night among the slain
And many a cheek will bloom no more for all the tearful rain.
And some have only vengeance, but to-day 'tis bitter-sweet!
And there goes Havelock, his the aim too lofty for defeat.
With steady tramp the Column treads, true as the firm heart's beat,
Strung for its headlong murderous march thro' that long fatal street.
All ready to win a soldier's grave, or do the daring deed,
But not a man that fears to die for England in her need.
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Some gallant fellow every stride was stricken from the rank.
But, as he staggered, in his place another sternly stepped,
And firing fast as they could load their onward way they kept.
Now, give them the good bayonet! with England's fiercest foes,
Strong arm, cold steel will do it, in the wildest, bloodiest close!
And now the bayonets abreast go sternly up the ridge,
And with another charge they take the guns and clear the bridge.
One good home-thrust! and surely as the dead in doom are sure
They send them where the British cheer can trouble them no more.
The fire is biting bitterly; onward the battle rolls.
Grim Death is glaring at them, from ten thousand hiding-holes.
Death stretches up from earth to heaven, spreading his darkness round;
Death piles the heaps of helplessness face-downward to the ground:
Death flames from sudden ambuscades where all was still and dark;
Death swiftly speeds on whizzing wings the bullets to their mark;
Death from the doors and windows, all around and overhead,
Darts with his cloven, fiery tongues, incessant, quick and red.
Death everywhere: Death in all sounds, and, thro' its smoke of breath,
Victory beckons at the end of long, dark lanes of death.
Grim Death is glaring at them, from ten thousand hiding-holes.
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Death piles the heaps of helplessness face-downward to the ground:
Death flames from sudden ambuscades where all was still and dark;
Death swiftly speeds on whizzing wings the bullets to their mark;
Death from the doors and windows, all around and overhead,
Darts with his cloven, fiery tongues, incessant, quick and red.
Death everywhere: Death in all sounds, and, thro' its smoke of breath,
Victory beckons at the end of long, dark lanes of death.
Another charge, another cheer, another battery won.
And in a whirlwind of fierce fire the fight goes roaring on!
Into the very heart of hell, with comrades falling fast,
Thro' all that tempest terrible, the glorious remnant passed.
No time to help a dear old friend, but where the wounded fell,
They knew it was all over and they lookt a last farewell.
And dying eyes slow-setting in a cold and stony stare,
Turned upward, see a map of murder scribbled on the air
With crossing flames, and others read their fiery, fearful fate,
In dark, swart faces waiting for them, whitening with their hate.
And in a whirlwind of fierce fire the fight goes roaring on!
Into the very heart of hell, with comrades falling fast,
Thro' all that tempest terrible, the glorious remnant passed.
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They knew it was all over and they lookt a last farewell.
And dying eyes slow-setting in a cold and stony stare,
Turned upward, see a map of murder scribbled on the air
With crossing flames, and others read their fiery, fearful fate,
In dark, swart faces waiting for them, whitening with their hate.
O proudly men will march to death, when Have-lock leads them on;
Thro' all the storm he sat his horse as he were cut in stone.
But now his look grows dark, his eye gleams with uneasy flash;
“On, for the Residency, we must make a last brave dash;”
And on dasht Highlander and Sikh, thro' a sea of fire and steel;
On with the lion of their strength, our first in glory, Neill.
It seemed the face of heaven grew black, so close it held its breath
Thro' all the glorious agony of that long march of death.
The round shot tears, the bullets rain; dear God, outspread thy shield;
Put forth thy red right arm for them; Thy sword of sharpness wield!
Thro' all the storm he sat his horse as he were cut in stone.
But now his look grows dark, his eye gleams with uneasy flash;
“On, for the Residency, we must make a last brave dash;”
And on dasht Highlander and Sikh, thro' a sea of fire and steel;
On with the lion of their strength, our first in glory, Neill.
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Thro' all the glorious agony of that long march of death.
The round shot tears, the bullets rain; dear God, outspread thy shield;
Put forth thy red right arm for them; Thy sword of sharpness wield!
One wave breaks forward on the shore, and one falls helpless back.
Again they club their wasted strength and fight like “Hell-fire Jack.”
And, ever as fainter grows the fire of that intrepid band,
Again they grasp the bayonet as 'twere Salvation's hand.
They leap the broad deep trenches; rush thro' archways streaming fire;
Every step some brave heart bursts, heaving deliverance nigher.
“I'm hit,” cries one—“You'll take me on your back, old comrade; I
Should like to see their dear white faces once before I die!
My body may save you from the shot.”
Again they club their wasted strength and fight like “Hell-fire Jack.”
And, ever as fainter grows the fire of that intrepid band,
Again they grasp the bayonet as 'twere Salvation's hand.
They leap the broad deep trenches; rush thro' archways streaming fire;
Every step some brave heart bursts, heaving deliverance nigher.
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Should like to see their dear white faces once before I die!
My body may save you from the shot.”
His comrade bore him on;
But, ere they reacht the Bailie Guard, the hurrying soul was gone.
But, ere they reacht the Bailie Guard, the hurrying soul was gone.
And now the Gateway arched in sight; the last grim tussle came;
One moment makes immortal! dead or living, endless fame!
They heard the voice of fiery Neill that for the last time thrilled:
“Push on, my men, 'tis getting dark:” he sat where he was killed.
Another frantic surge of life, and plunging o'er the bar
Right into harbour hurling goes their whirling wave of war,
And breaks in mighty thunders of reverberating cheers,
Then dances on in frolic foam of kisses, blessings, tears.
Stabbed by mistake, one native cries, with the last breath he draws:
“Welcome, my friends; never you mind, it's all for the good cause.”
One moment makes immortal! dead or living, endless fame!
They heard the voice of fiery Neill that for the last time thrilled:
“Push on, my men, 'tis getting dark:” he sat where he was killed.
Another frantic surge of life, and plunging o'er the bar
Right into harbour hurling goes their whirling wave of war,
And breaks in mighty thunders of reverberating cheers,
Then dances on in frolic foam of kisses, blessings, tears.
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“Welcome, my friends; never you mind, it's all for the good cause.”
How they had leaned and listened as the battle sounded nigher;
How they had strained their eyes to see them coming crown'd with fire;
Till in the flashing street below they heard them pant for breath,
And then the English faces smiled clear from the cloud of death,
And iron grasp met tender clasp: wan weeping women fold
Their dear Deliverers, down whose long brown beards the big tears rolled.
Another such a meeting will not be on this side heaven!
The little wine they have hoarded to the last drop shall be given
To those, who, in their mortal need, fought on thro' fearful odds;
Bled for them; reacht them; saved them; less like men than glorious gods.
How they had strained their eyes to see them coming crown'd with fire;
Till in the flashing street below they heard them pant for breath,
And then the English faces smiled clear from the cloud of death,
And iron grasp met tender clasp: wan weeping women fold
Their dear Deliverers, down whose long brown beards the big tears rolled.
Another such a meeting will not be on this side heaven!
The little wine they have hoarded to the last drop shall be given
To those, who, in their mortal need, fought on thro' fearful odds;
Bled for them; reacht them; saved them; less like men than glorious gods.
| A Tale of Eternity and Other Poems | |