Hark, cannonade, fusillade! Is it true what was told by the
scout,
Outram and Havelock breaking their way thro' the fell mutineers?
Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears!
All on a sudden the garrison utter a jubilant shout,
Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers,
Sick from the hospital echo them, women and children come out,
Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers,
Kissing the war-hardened hand of the Highlander, wet with their
tears!
Dance to the pibroch! Saved! We are saved! Is it you? Is it you?
Saved by the valor of Havelock; saved by the blessing of heaven!
"Hold it for fifteen days!" We have held it for eighty-seven!
And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew.