Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, Rode the six hundred. All the world wondered: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not, Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Noble six hundred! NORTHERN FARMER OLD STYLE 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 Wheer 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin'1 'ere aloän? Noörse? thourt nowt o' a noorse; whoy, Doctor's abeän an' agoän; 1 lying. Says that I moänt 'a naw moor aäle, but I I weänt saäy men be loiars, thaw summun beänt a fool; But a cast oop, thot a did, 'bout Bessy Marris's barne.2 said it in 'aäste; Dubbut looök at the waäste; theer warn't not feeäd for a cow; Thaw a knaws I hallus voated wi' Squoire Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz,1 an’ an' choorch an' staäte, 15 looök at it now I beänt wonn as saws 'ere a beän an yonder a peä; I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy An' Squoire u'll be sa mad an' all—a' dear, the lond. a' dear! And I 'a managed for Squoire coom Michaelmas thutty year. 25 Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom, Squoire's i' Lunnon, an' summun I reckons Making Him broken gleams, and a stifled 'ull 'a to wroite, splendor and gloom. 10 THE REVENGE A BALLAD OF THE FLEET At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from far away: "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God, I am no coward; V But I cannot meet them here, for my ships Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we are out of gear, 5 And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?" roared a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe, With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, 35 And the little Revenge ran on through the long sea-lane between. And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame: Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. 60 For some were sunk and many were shattered, and so could fight no more— God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before? And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, |