IV

'Lost one and all' were the words

Mutter'd in our dismay;

But they rode like Victors and Lords

Thro' the forest of lances and swords

In the heart of the Russian hordes,

They rode, or they stood at bay–

Struck with the sword-hand and slew,

Down with the bridle-hand drew

The foe from the saddle and threw

Underfoot there in the fray–

Ranged like a storm or stood like a rock

In the wave of a stormy day;

Till suddenly shock upon shock

Stagger’d the mass from without,

Drove it in wild disarray,

For our men gallopt up with a cheer and a shout,

And the foeman surged, and waver’d, and reel’d

Up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, out of the field,

And over the brow and away.