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-shattered navy of

Spain,

And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags

To be lost evermore in the main.

5

10

The charge of the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade!
Down the hill, down the hill, thousands of Russians,
Thousands of horsemen, drew to the valley and stay'd;
For Scarlett and Scarlett's three hundred were riding by
When the points of the Russian lances arose in the sky;

And he call'd, "Left wheel into line!" and they wheel'd and obey'd.

Then he looked at the host that had halted he knew not why,
And he turn'd half round, and he bade his trumpeter sound
To the charge, and he rode on ahead, as he waved his blade
To the gallant three hundred whose glory will never die
"Follow," and up the hill, up the hill, up the hill,
Follow'd the Heavy Brigade.

II

The trumpet, the gallop, the charge, and the might of the fight!
Thousands of horsemen had gather'd there on the height,
With a wing push'd out to the left and a wing to the right,
And who shall escape if they close? but he dash'd up alone
Thro' the great gray slope of men,
Sway'd his sabre, and held his own
Like an Englishman there and then.
All in a moment follow'd with force
Three that were next in their fiery course,

Wedged themselves in between horse and horse,

Fought for their lives in the narrow gap they had made Four amid thousands! and up the hill, up the hill, 25 Gallopt the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade.

III

30

35

40

45

Fell like a cannon-shot,
Burst like a thunder-bolt,
Crash'd like a hurricane,

Broke through the mass from below,
Drove through the midst of the foe,
Plunged up and down, to and fro,
Rode flashing blow upon blow,
Brave Inniskillens and Greys

Whirling their sabres in circles of light!
And some of us, all in amaze,

Who were held for a while from the fight,
And were only standing at gaze,

When the dark-muffled Russian crowd

Folded its wings from the left and the right,
And roll'd them around like a cloud,

O, mad for the charge and the battle were we,
When our own good redcoats sank from sight,

Like drops of blood in a dark-gray sea,

And we turn'd to each other, whispering, all dismay'd,

"Lost are the gallant three hundred of Scarlett's Brigade !"

Ranged like a storm or stood like a rock

In the wave of a stormy day;
Till suddenly shock upon shock
Stagger'd the mass from without,
Drove it in wild disarray,

For our men gallopt up with a cheer and a shout,
And the foemen surged, and waver'd and reel'd,

Up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, out of the field,
And over the brow and away.

V

Glory to each and to all, and the charge that they made!
Glory to all the three hundred, and all the Brigade!

The Throstle

"Summer is coming, summer is coming!

I know it, I know it, I know it.

Light again, leaf again, life again, love again!"
Yes, my wild little Poet.

Sing the new year in under the blue.

Last year you sang it as gladly.

"New, new, new, new!" Is it then so new

That you should carol so madly?

Love again, song again, nest again, young again,”
Never a prophet so crazy!

10

And hardly a daisy as yet, little friend,

See, there is hardly a daisy.

"Here again, here, here, here, happy year!"

O warble unchidden, unbidden!

Summer is coming, is coming, my dear,

And all the winters are hidden.

15

5

10

15

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

5

ROBERT BROWNING

Song from Pippa Passes

The year's at the spring

And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;

God's in his heaven

All's right with the world!

How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ;

"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;

"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace

Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;

And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,

And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away

The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray :

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence, · ever that glance
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance !
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her.