Successful Recitations Part 44

The swarthy wave sped on and on, pressed forward by the tide, Which rose above the bleak hill-top, and swept the bleak hill-side; It rose upon the hill, and, surging out about its base, Closed house and barricade within its murderous embrace.

With savage faces girt, the lads' frail fortress seemed to be An island all abloom within a black and howling sea; And only that the savages shot wide, and held the noise As deadly as the bullets, they had overwhelmed the boys.

Then in the dusk of day the dusky Kaffirs crept about The bushes and the prairie-gra.s.s, to rise up with a shout, To step as in a war-dance, all together, and to fling Their weight against the sick-house till they made its timbers spring.

When beaten back, they struck their s.h.i.+elds, and thought to strike with fear Those British hearts,--their answer came, a ringing British cheer!

And the volley we sent after showed the Kaffirs to their cost The coolness of our temper,--scarce an ounce of shot was lost.

And the sick men from their vantage at the windows singled out From among the valiant savages the bravest of the rout; A pile of fourteen warriors lay dead upon the ground By the hand of Joseph Williams, and there led up to the mound

A path of Zulu bodies on the Welshman's line of fire Ere he perished, dragged out, a.s.segaied, and trampled in their ire; But the body takes its honour or dishonour from the soul, And his name is writ in fire upon our nation's long bead-roll.

Yet, let no name of any man be set above the rest, Where all were braver than the brave, each better than the best, Where the sick rose up as heroes, and the sound had hearts for those Who, in madness of their fever, were contending as with foes.

For the hospital was blazing, roof and wall, and in its light The Kaffirs showed like devils, till so deadly grew the fight That they cowered into cover, and one moment all was still, When a Kaffir chieftain bellowed forth new orders from the hill.

Then the Zulu warriors rallied, formed again, and hand to hand We fought above the barricade; determined was the stand; Our fellows backed each other up,--no wavering and no haste, But loading in the Kaffirs' teeth, and not a shot to waste.

We had held on through the dusk, and we had held on in the light Of the burning house; and later, in the dimness of the night, They could see our fairer faces; we could find them by their cries, By the flash of savage weapons and the glare of savage eyes.

With the midnight came a change--that angry sea at length was cowed, Its waves still broke upon us, but fell fainter and less loud; When the 'pale face' of the dawn rose glimmering from his bed The last black sullen wave swept off and bore away the dead.

That island all abloom with English youth, and fortified With English valour, stood above the wild, retreating tide; Those lads contemned Canute, and shamed the lesson that he read,-- For them the hungry waves withdrew, the howling ocean fled.

Britannia, rule, Britannia! while thy sons resemble thee, And are islanders, true islanders, wherever they may be; Island fortified like this, manned with islanders like these, Will keep thee Lady of thy Land, and Sovereign of all Seas!

RELIEVED!

(_AT MAFEKING_.)

Said he of the relieving force, As through the town he sped, "Art thou in Baden-Powell's Horse?"

The trooper shook his head, Then drew his hand his mouth across, Like one who's lately fed.

"Alas! for Baden-Powell's horse-- It's now in me," he said.--_Daily Express_.

HOW SAM HODGE WON THE VICTORIA CROSS.

BY WILLIAM JEFFREY PROWSE.

Just a simple little story I've a fancy for inditing; It shows the funny quarters in which chivalry may lodge, A story about Africa, and Englishmen, and fighting, And an unromantic hero by the name of Samuel Hodge.

"Samuel Hodge!" The words in question never previously filled a Conspicuous place in fiction or the Chronicles of Fame; And the Blood and Culture critics, or the Rosa and Matilda School of Novelists would shudder at the mention of the name.

It was up the Gambia River--and of _that_ unpleasant station It is chiefly in connection with the fever that we hear!-- That my hero with the vulgar and prosaic appellation Was a private--mind, a private!--and a st.u.r.dy pioneer.

It's a dreary kind of region, where the river mists arising Roll slowly out to seaward, dropping poison in their track.

And accordingly few gentlemen will find the fact surprising That a rather small proportion of our garrison comes back!

It is filthy, it is foetid, it is sordid, it is squalid; If you tried it for a season, you would very soon repent; But the British trader likes it, and he finds a reason solid For the liking, in his profit at the rate of cent, per cent.

And to guard the British traders, gallant men and merry younkers, In their coats of blue and scarlet, still are stationed at the post, Whilst the migratory natives, who are known as "Tillie-bunkas,"

Grub up and down for ground-nuts and chaffer on the coast.

Furthermore, to help the trader in his laudable vocation, We have heaps of little treaties with a host of little kings, And, at times, the coloured caitiffs in their wild inebriation, Gather round us, little hornets, with uncomfortable stings.

To my tale:--The King of Barra had been getting rather "sarsy,"

In fact, for such an insect, he was coming it too strong, So we sent a small detachment--it was led by Colonel D'Arcy-- To drive him from his capital of Tubabecolong!

Now on due investigation, when his land they had invaded, They learnt from information which was brought them by the guides That the worthy King of Barra had completely _barra_caded The s.p.a.cious mud-construction where his majesty resides.

"At it, boys!" said Colonel D'Arcy, and himself was first to enter, And his fellows tried to follow with the customary cheers; Through the town he dashed impatient, but had scarcely reached the centre Ere he found the task before him was a task for pioneers.

For so strongly and so stoutly all the gates were palisaded, The supports could never enter if he did not clear a way:-- But Sammy Hodge, perceiving how the foe might be "persuaded,"

Had certain special talents which he hastened to display.

Whilst the bullets, then, were flying, and the bayonets were glancing Whilst the whole affair in fury rather heightened than relaxed, With axe in hand, and silently, our pioneer advancing SMOTE THE GATE; AND BADE IT OPEN; AND IT DID--AS IT WAS AXED!

L'ENVOI.

Just a word of explanation, it may save us from a quarrel, I have really no intention--'twould be shameful if I had, Of preaching you a blatant, democratic kind of moral; For the "swell, you know," the D'Arcy, fought as bravely as the "cad!"

Yet I own that sometimes thinking how a courteous decoration May be won by shabby service or disreputable dodge, I regard with more than pleasure--with a sense of consolation-- The Victoria Cross "For Valour" on the breast of Sammy Hodge!

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

(October 25, 1857.)

BY R.T.S. LOWELL.

Oh! that last day in Lucknow fort!

We knew that it was the last: That the enemy's mines had crept surely in, And the end was coming fast.

To yield to that foe meant worse than death; And the men and we all work'd on: It was one day more, of smoke and roar, And then it would all be done.

There was one of us, a corporal's wife, A fair young gentle thing, Wasted with fever in the siege, And her mind was wandering.

She lay on the ground in her Scottish plaid, And I took her head on my knee: "When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said, "Oh! please then waken me."