Ten Englishmen of the Nineteenth Century

by James Richard Joy

THE DEFENSE OF LUCKNOW

[Tennyson's poem was inspired by the recital of one of the most notable features of the Great Mutiny.]

I

Banner of England, not for a season, O banner of Britain, hast
thou
Floated in conquering—battle, or flapped to the battle-cry!
Never with mightier glory than when we had reared thee on high
Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of Lucknow—
Shot thro' the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised thee
anew,
And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.

II

Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with our
lives-
Women and children among us, God help them, our children and
wives!
Hold it we might, and for fifteen days, or for twenty at most.
"Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post!"
Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Laurence, the best of the
brave:
Cold were his brows when we kissed him-we laid him that night in
his grave.
"Every man die at his post!" and there halted on our houses and
halls
Death from their rifle-bullets, and death from their cannon-
balls;
Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight
barricade;
Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stooped
to the spade;
Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often there
fell,
Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro' it, their shot and
their shell;
Death—for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told of
our best,
So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that would think
for the rest;
Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at
our feet—
Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels who girdled us
round—
Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of a
street;
Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death in
the ground!
Mine? Yes, a mine. Countermine! down, down! and creep thro' the
hole!
Keep the revolver in hand! you can hear him—the murderous mole!
Quiet, ah! quiet—wait till the point of the pick-ax be thro'!
Click with the pick coming nearer and nearer again than before—
Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no more;
And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.

III

Aye, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on a
day
Soon as the blast of that underground thunder-clap echoed away,
Dark thro' the smoke and the sulphur, like so many fiends in
their hell,
Cannon-shot, musket-shot, volley on volley, and yell upon yell—
Fiercely on all the defenses our myriad enemy fell.
What have they done? Where is it? Out yonder, guard the Redan!
Storm at the water-gate! storm at the Bailey-gate! storm! and it
ran
Surging and swaying all round us, as ocean on every side
Plunges and heaves at a bank that is daily drowned by the tide—
So many thousands, that if they be bold enough, who shall escape?
Kill or be killed, live or die, they shall know we are soldiers
and men!
Ready! take aim at their leaders—their masses are gapped with
our grape—
Backward they reel like the wave, like the wave flinging forward
again,
Flying and foiled at the last by the handful they could not
subdue;
And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.

IV

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.
There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper that passed:
"Children and wives—if the tigers leap into the fold 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."
Roar upon roar in a moment, two mines by the enemy sprung,
Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades,
Rifleman, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be as
true!
Sharp is the fire of assault, better aimed are your flank
fusillades—
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 our topmost roof our banner of England blew.