III

Fell like a cannon-shot,

Burst like a thunderbolt,

Crash'd like a hurricane,

Broke thro' the mass from below,

Drove thro' the midst of the foe,

Plunged up and down, to and fro,

Rode flashing blow upon blow,

Brave Inniskillens and Greys

Whirling their sabres in circles of light!

And some of us, all in amaze,

Who were held for a while from the fight,

And were only standing at gaze,

When the dark-muffled Russian crowd

Folded its wings from the left and the right,

And roll'd them around like a cloud,–

O mad for the charge and the battle were we,

When our own good redcoats sank from sight,

Like drops of blood in a dark-gray sea,

And we turn'd to each other, whispering, all dismay'd,

'Lost are the gallant three hundred of Scarlett's Brigade!'