THE LAST CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
(Brought by the Survivors against those—who might have looked after them.)
"But we are all getting older every year, and with the lapse of time, while many have died, a good number have fallen into dire misfortune.... Lord Cardigan's words to the survivors of the Six Hundred the morning after the charge have been repeated to me, although I wasn't there to hear them. He said: 'Men, you have done a glorious deed! England will be proud of you, and grateful to you. If you live to get home, be sure you will all be provided for. Not one of you fine fellows will ever have to seek refuge in the workhouse!' Now, you perhaps know how that promise has been kept. I cannot tell you, even from my secretarial records, the full extent of the misery that has fallen upon my old comrades in the Charge of the Light Brigade; but I can give you a few details that should be made widely public."—The Secretary of the Balaclava Committee.
Forty years, Forty years,
All but four—onward,
Since to the Valley of Death
Rode the Six Hundred;
Since the whole country cried
"We will for you provide,—
Blazon your splendid ride,
Gallant Six Hundred!"
Yet now the Light Brigade
Stands staring much dismayed
For they can plainly see
Someone has blundered.
For here are they, grown old,
With their grand story told,
Left to the bitter cold,—
Starving Six Hundred!
Workhouse to right of them,
Workhouse to left of them,
Workhouse in front of them!
Has no one wondered
That British blood should cry,
"Shame!" and exact reply,
Asking the country why
Thus it sees droop and die
Those brave Six Hundred!
As they drop off the stage,
Want, and the weight of age—
Is this their only wage?—
Home rent and sundered!
And is their deed sublime,
Flooding all after-time,
Now but a theme for rhyme,
Whispered—and thundered
Where, from the pit and stalls,
Theatres and Music-halls,
Greet their "Six Hundred!"
Can thus emotion feed
On the heroic deed,
Yet leave the doer in need,—
Of his rights plundered?
"No!" the whole land declares
Henceforth their load it shares,
Spite those who blundered.
They shall note wants decrease,
Of comfort take a lease
Till all their troubles cease
And to their end in peace
Ride the Six Hundred!