The Battle of Assye
Where the Jungle stands in an inland sea,
When the hills send down their floods to the plain,
And the waters drown the coiled tree-snake,
And the reed-thatched hamlets by jhîl and lake
Are swamped and demolished utterly.
"How can I tell of the months of fight?—
The whole thing slid like an evil dream,
With the same tired halt at camping-time,
When the hot day sank into hotter night,
A broken sleep and a dream of home;
Then grain for each lowing bullock-team;
And then the sun in the parched blue dome—
And the weary, broken sleep again.
"But one thing stays in my mind, and will stay
Stamped in fire till the day I die:—
How the wild Mahratta ranks gave way
From a poor four thousand of Englishmen,
By the little village they call Assye—
For we were one where they numbered ten;
How we fought through the hot September day
In the face of their cannon, and how we slew;
How the horsemen galloped down on us,
And we broke their ranks and fought anew,
In the midst of a fire so murderous
That it seems a wonder that I am alife;
And, last of all, how we chased the crew,
Drove them like bullocks our peasants drive,
Footsore and bleeding. It happened thus:
28
