Now, the garrison rescued, the wrong redressed,
Low retired, with his thousands around him.
Few and short are the words he has said,
From palaver no aid did he borrow;
But many a face at their hearing flushed red,
As will millions of others to-morrow.
Six months of hard struggle for heart, hand, and head,
Rough plodding, and comfortless pillow.
Now the foe and the native would stay our home-tread;
There's news to despatch o'er the billow!