Morn broke! around the mountains grey,

The fleecy vapours lightly play;

Fresh in the bright sun's glad'ning beam,

The sparkling waves below are seen -

But hark! the spattering musket roll,

The knell of many a noble soul

Sounds o'er the valley — and the roar

Of booming gun is heard to soar —

Debouching from the gorge are seen,

With solemn stateliness of mien,

Thousands of Russians marching on,

With line of guns, full twenty strong.

Their flashing sabres lit the vale,

The Moslem hearts before them quail,

And sight — 0, mad'ning to the brave!

The cowards fled their lives to save;

Nor check their flight, till on the flank

Of Highlanders they form in rank.

Come on, proud Russians, but to meet

Men who from danger ne'er retreat,

Firm as the mountains of their land,

Calmly the Scottish heroes stand.

The Russians halt — a silence still,

One moment reigns o'er vale and hill,

Then on they dash, — but ere they reach

The Gaelic rock, that valorous foe

With aim unerring laid them low:

Now back still faster than they came,

They wheel about mid-smoke and flame —

One shout for Highland courage flew

From rank to rank, and then anew

The warning blast of trumpet shrill

Announces denser legions still,

In bristling and compact array

Advance in order to the fray.

One thrilling cheer! the Grays rush on —

The Enniskillens too are gone —

Into the columns dense they dash,

And disappear like lightning's flash;

Down fall the prostrate foe, and on,

Still on they rush, impetuous borne;

As with one voice a cry to Heaven

For those brave souls was instant given!

They're lost! when lo! as bolt from bow,

Dragoons and Royals clashing go:

Down fell the Russian horse, and fly

Far o'er the plain as scans the eye —

One British cheer of glad delight

Rang joyous ouit from vale and height —

"Well done" brave Scarlett, yes, "well done,"

Thy laurel crow n is nobly won!

* * * * * *

Now flush'd with victory they stand

With reeking sword, and rein in hand,

When Nolan on his fiery steed,

Impatient to the charge to lead,

Announces that they forward move,

And deeds of farther valor prove;

"Advance!" and "whither" Lucan cries —

For ranged in deadly form there lies

The fierce-mouthed cannon of the foe,

Ready to lay each warrior low!

Impatient Nolan waved his hand

Where thirty guns all bristling stand —

"There sir, your duty lies — the foe

Behind them waits you — take them — Go!"

Lord Cardigan the order heard,

But while his lion-heart was stirred,

He mourned the gallant blood with pain,

That there must flow, and flow in vain.

Girded for death, each earnest eye

Feels strong in duty's course to die!

Yet who can tell what passing pang

Within each beating heart there rang,

As that all fearful edict gave

The summons to a soldier's grave.

Earth, and its lovely things appear

More lovely still as death draws near;

Visions of love and home rush by,

Soft loving voices imournfully

Whisper farewell, — O aid him heaven,

Who thus in duty's cause has given,

Love, life, in all its radiant bloom,

A noble offering to the tomb!

Duty! the magic of that name,

In British breasts lights valor's ilame,

They onward speed, though each man knew

'Twas certain death he speeded to;

Proudly they swept in glittering pride.

The deadly plain, where opened wide

The flash of smoke and fearful balls.

From which our bravest speedy falls!

They halt not — one bright flashing ray

Above their heads is seen to play!

One cheer! their death-cry it proclaimed.

And then the Russian guns are gained!

Down fell the gunners — but that band,

Among them noblest of our land,

Had given their life-blood to the foe,

And on the gory field lay low!

The shattered remnant, still unquailed,

Fight fiercely on, although assailed

On every side by murderous fire,

And through the deadly foe retire —

But, Oh! how changed the gallant corps

Who still amid the carnage bore

That floating standard of the brave,

Which waves above their blood-stained grave!

O, noble heroes of that day,

Ne'er from our hearts such valor may

Be e'er forgotten, — high renown

Will hand their names in glory down

To latest ages. Sire to son

Will tell the deeds of prowess done

By those, who prompt at duty's call,

Rejoicing for their country fall!!