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(From the New York Sun)
A PARAGRAPH appeared some days ago in the Sun announcing the death of John Fitzpatrick, one of the Light Brigade, who died of starvation in England. He had received a pension of sixpence a day, which, however, was withdrawn several years ago, and he endeavored to eke out a miserable existence by riding in circus pageants. Old age and disease unfitted him for this or any other work; the only refuge for the disabled soldier was the poor-house, from which he shrank in horror. The verdict of the coroner's jury was "Died of starvation, and the case a disgrace to the War Office."
Speed the news! Speed the news!
Speed the news onward!
"Died of starvation," one
Of the Six Hundred;
One who his part had played
Well in the Light Brigade,
When through the vale of death,
Rode the Six Hundred.
Food to the right of him,
Food to the left of him,
Food all around, yet
The veteran hungered -
He, who through shot and shell,
Fearlessly rode and well,
And when the word was "Charge,"
Shrank not nor lingered.
"Off to the workhouse, you!"
Back in dismay he drew,
Feeling ha never knew,
When cannon thundered.
His not to plead nor sigh,
His but to starve and die,
And to a pauper's grave
Sink with a soul as brave
As through the vale of death
Rode the Six Hundred.
Flashed a proud spirit there,
Up through the man's despair,
Shaming the servile there,
Scaring the timid, while
Sordid souls wondered;
Then turned to face his fate
Calmly, with soul as great
As when through shot and shell
He rode with Six Hundred;
With high hope elate,
Laughing in face of fate -
Rode with Six Hundred.
Hunger his mate by day,
Sunday and working day,
Winter and summer day -
Shame on the nation!
Struggling with might and main,
Smit by disease and pain,
He, in Victoria's reign, "Died of starvation."
While yet the land with pride
Tells of the headlong ride
Of the Six Hundred.
While yet the welkin rings,
While yet the Laureate sings
"Some one has blundered,"
Let us with bated breath
Tell how one starved to death
Of the Six Hundred.
What can that horror hide
Of the dread death he died?
Well may men wonder,
One of the Light Brigade,
One who that charge had made,
Died of sheer hunger!
M. M.
There was a sarcastic appropriateness shown by the author of the above poem in using the same metre in telling of the old hero's death of starvation as that in which Tennyson commemorated the charge of the famous brigade to which Fitzpatrick belonged. No other metre would have expressed so well the just indignation which all generous hearts must have felt on reading of the old soldier's death, aud, while complimenting the writer on the literary merit and poetical ability evinced, we must likewise give our recognition of the happy selection of the measure.
[Source: Colonist, Volume XVIII, Issue 2092, 24 June 1876, Page 6.]