For us had true and deadly aim, each volley left its track, And our faint-hearted shouted that we might as well fall back. Sir Colin heard the coward cry, and quick and fiery souled, His pride flamed into fury, his voice like thunder rolled, As to the cry, he answer sent, a loud and thundering "No Better that every man should be upon the dust laid low Than that we now should turn our backs to the proud exulting foe!" Still for a space we halted, still around the bullets flew, And even as the moments fled our wild impatience grew. At last the word was spoken, the long-looked-for signal made. "Forward Forty-second" was all Sir Colin said, But the visage of the veteran bore that strange and living light, Which bespeaks the soldier's rapture, at the coming of the fight. As a steed bounds with his rider when at last he has got aim; As a stemmed up river rushes when it bursts toward the main, As flies the unleashed hound or as 'scapes t bird, So the Forty-second bounded when it h leader's word. O Will! it is a splendid sight a plumed and plaided host, "Tis beautiful at home in peace, but its grandeur shines the most, When as then, in all the glory of its dressed, l ardor All swift and silent at the foe, the Forty-second pressed. Our chieftain half restrained us, our headlong valor stayed, Till we marched as firmly as we'd march when home and on parade. On in a grand unbending line the plumes and tartan swept. The bullets fell like hail, but still our stately step we kept. Then when we felt the breath of the red-lipped Russian gun, The deep tramp of a thousand men was as the tramp of one. Before us loomed the foemen massed in columns dense and deep : In a thin and slender British line, we climbed that deadly steep beg sittwere some Highland hill our kilted lads up sprung. Mictory like an eagle poised, between the armies hung, But victory favored not the dense battalions of the Russ, For soon we saw her gracious wings would fall that day on us. Before our fire those foemen dense began to thin and Till with a groan, a wailing moan, they scattered in dismay. Then we watched our brave Sir Colin, and we saw a signal given, And from all along our slender line a shout went up to Heaven That shout that comes from free-born breasts, which foemen dread to hear, And the Russian eagles vanished, at a genuine British cheer! Ah! war it is a glorious thing but a deadly thing as well: One face it wears is bright as Heaven but one is dark as Hell; Deep wailing from full many a home of Russian, Frank and Turk, And in England many tears shall be the fruit of this day's work. Ah! me my pulse beats faintly, quicker and quicker comes my breath, And chill and damp my forehead feels, damp with the dews of death. Draw closer to my side, dear Will, and bend thine ear this way While I send by thee a last farewell to dear ones far away. My father-tell my father that I lie by Alma's sideThat I like a soldier fought-that I like a soldier died; Tell him ('twill give his manly heart a strange and stern delight) That I was first across the stream, and foremost in the fight. That though my mortal wound I got so early in the day, I stemmed it up and would not yield, but struggled through the fray. My mother-would that I could bear her sorrow and sharp pain; She'll dream at night that in the fight she sees her soldier slain; She'll wake at morn, with heavy heart, her sorrow to renew, Suppressed by day her tears will fall at even' like the dew. But tell her to control her grief and wipe away her tears When the joy-bells ring for victory and the air is rent with cheers: When old Scotland 'mid her mourning for the wounded and the dead, |