Behind the western ridges
The sun’s red lamp sank down,
The twilight shadows seemed to cast
O’er all a threatening frown;
We gazed with mingled feelings
On the last-fading beam,
Should we, too, lie ’neath the cold grey sky,
Stark in the dawning gleam?
We looked at one another,
Then at the purpling west,
Then came the thought of our noble trust,
Filling each soldier breast;
And there, that trust defending,
We’d perish as we stood—
Telling of death seemed the night-wind’s breath,
Heavy and dank with blood.
Again the thrilling war-cry
In wild shrill notes rang out,
Again th’ infuriate mass bore down
Upon our frail redoubt;
They poured their swarming numbers
Over the barricade—
But one short stand, our gallant band
That first mad onslaught stayed.
Yet fiercer still and bolder
They rushed into the fight—
When to the smoke-beclouded sky
Shone a dull reddening light:
With a chill of consternation
We marked the lurid glare,
Knowing that then our wounded men
Were helpless lying there.
Then from the glowing furnace
We brought them one by one,
But the foe closed up too quickly,
Ere half our work was done;
We faced the yelling masses,
We braved the crackling fire,
Till through the smoke the fierce flame broke,
Forcing us to retire.
The cruel demons entered,
All eager for their prey,
The helpless sick and wounded
Were butchered as they lay;
As the huge flames roared upward
With red and hungry light,
In the fierce glare that met us there—
Stood all revealed the fight.
Widened the glowing circle
Crowded with clamouring bands,
All weirdly shone the flashing blades
Brandished by grisly hands;
Again, again upon us,
Poured the dark howling flood,
Quivered the ground beneath their bound,
Red with our comrades’ blood.
We thought of these comrades butchered
As they unresisting lay;
We ceased to give a passing care
To the issue of the fray;
We only longed for vengeance
On all the fiendish crew,
To let them feel our British steel,
To strike both oft and true.
The flaming pile sank inwards
With a roar like thunder’s tone;
Arose a sickening stench of blood
And many a gurgling moan;
Still the terrific war-cry
Blent with our furious shout,
Harder they pressed upon us—
Quicker we drove them out—
Hurling them back in the gory track,
Upon the clamouring rout.
And eyes with lust of carnage,
Like coals through the darkness gleamed,
And bayonet crashed with stabbing spear,
Thick the red torrent streamed:
Drowning the roar of battle—
Drowning the deafening clang—
Each demon yell, like a blast of hell,
Fiercer and higher rang.