The lad had been the pet of all, they knew not what to say;
“I will not shame you, ‘Forty-third,’ though I am but a child!”
Then Regnier stooped and kissed his face, and shouted loud and wild:
“Forward! Why are we waiting here? Shall Mamelukes stop our way?
Come, little Jean, and beat the ‘charge,’ and ours shall be the day;
And we will show thee how to die, good boy! good boy! Be brave!
It is not every ‘nine years’ old’ can fill a soldier’s grave!”
It was as though a spirit spoke, the men to battle flew;
Yet each in passing, cried aloud: “My little Jean, Adieu!”
“Adieu, brave Forty-third, Adieu!” Then proudly beat his drum—