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.
V
Then on another wild morning, another wild earthquake out-tore,
Clean from our lines of defense ten or twelve good paces or more.
Rifleman high on the roof, hidden there from the light of the
sun--
One has leapt upon the breach crying out, "Follow me, follow me!"
Mark him-he falls! then another, and down goes he.
Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but the traitors had
won?
Boardings and rafters 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 our topmost roof our banner in India blew.