242 DOYLE
Till suddenly shock upon shock
Staggered 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 wavered and reeled
Up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, out of th
field, And over the brow and away.
Glory to each and to all, and the charge that they
made! Glory to all the three hundred, and all the Brigade !
Tennyson.
��XCVI THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS
LAST night, among his fellow roughs,
He jested, quaffed, and swore; A drunken private of the Buffs,
Who never looked before. To-day, beneath the foeman's frown,
He stands in Elgin's place, Ambassador from Britain's crown
And type of all her race.
Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught,
Bewildered, and alone, A heart, with English instinct fraught,
He yet can call his own.
�� �
