IX.
Handful of men as we were, we were English in heart
and in limb,
Strong with the strength of the race to command, to
obey, to endure,
Each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but
on him—
Still, could we watch at all points? We were every
day fewer and fewer.
X.
There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper
that passed—
"Children and wives—if the tigers leap into the folds
unawares,
Every man die at his post—and the foe may outlive
us at last,
Better to fall by the hands that they love, than to fall
into theirs."
XI.
Roar upon roar—in a moment two mines, by the enemy sprung, Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades. Riflemen, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be as true. Sharp is the fire of assault, better aimed are your flank fusilades; Twice do we hurl them to earth from the ladders to which they had clung, Twice from the ditch where they shelter we drive them with hand grenades—, And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew.
XII.
Then on another wild morning another wild earthquake
out-tore
Clean from our lines of defence ten or twelve good
paces or more.
Riflemen, high on the roof, hidden there from the light
of the sun—
One has leapt up on the breach, crying out, "Follow
me, follow me!"
Mark him—he falls! then another, and him, too, and
down goes he.
XIII.
Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but that
the traitors had won?
Boardings, and raftings, and doors—an embrasure;
make way for the gun!
Now, double charge it with grape! It is charged, and
we fire, and they run.
Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face
have his due.
Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us,
faithful and few,
Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them,
and smote them, and slew—
That ever upon the topmost roof our banner in India
blew.