I

The charge of the gallant three hundred, the Heavy Brigade!

Down the hill, down the hill, thousands of Russians,

Thousands of horsemen, drew to the valley–and stay’d;

For Scarlett and Scarlett’s three hundred were riding by

When the points of the Russian lances arose in the sky;

And he call'd, 'Left wheel into line!' and they wheel'd and obey'd.

Then he look'd at the host that had halted he knew not why,

And he turn'd half round, and he bad his trumpeter sound

To the charge, and he rode on ahead, as he waved his blade

To the gallant three hundred whose glory will never die–

'Follow,' and up the hill, up the hill, up the hill,

Follow'd the Heavy Brigade.