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THE ROLL OF THE KETTLEDRUM.
THE ROLL OF THE KETTLEDRUM;
OR, THE
LAY OF THE LAST CHARGER.
“You have the Pyrrhic dance, as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and tho manlier one?”—Byron.
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and tho manlier one?”—Byron.
One line of swart profiles, and bearded lips dressing,
One ridge of bright helmets, one crest of fair plumes,
One streak of blue sword-blades all bared for the fleshing,
One row of red nostrils that scent battle-fumes.
One ridge of bright helmets, one crest of fair plumes,
One streak of blue sword-blades all bared for the fleshing,
One row of red nostrils that scent battle-fumes.
Forward! the trumpets were sounding the charge,
The roll of the kettledrum rapidly ran,
That music, like wild-fire spreading at large,
Madden'd the war-horse as well as the man.
The roll of the kettledrum rapidly ran,
That music, like wild-fire spreading at large,
Madden'd the war-horse as well as the man.
Forward! still, forward! we thunder'd along,
Steadily, yet, for our strength we were nursing:
Tall Ewart, our sergeant, was humming a song,
Lance-corporal Black Will was blaspheming and cursing.
Steadily, yet, for our strength we were nursing:
Tall Ewart, our sergeant, was humming a song,
Lance-corporal Black Will was blaspheming and cursing.
