The Poem 'The Defence of Lucknow' By Alfred Lord Tennyson

 The Defence of

Lucknow 

Poem

   By Alfred Lord Tennyson

 

1

BANNER of England, not for a season, O banner of Britain, hast thou

 Floated in conquering battle or flapt to the battle-cry!

 Never with mightier glory than when we had rear'd thee on high

 Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of Lucknow-

Shot thro' the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised thee anew,

 And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew.

 

II

Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with our lives-

Women and children among us, God help them, our children and wives!

Hold it we might-and for fifteen days or for twenty at most.

"Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post!

Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Lawrence the best of the brave:

Cold were his brows when we kiss'd him-we laid him that night in his grave

"Every man die at his post!' and there hail'd on our houses and halls

Death from their rifle-bullets, and death from their cannon-balls,

Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight barricade,

Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stoopt to the spad

Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often there fell,

 

Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro' it, their shot and their shell,

Death-for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told of our best,

So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that could think for the rest;

Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at our feet-

Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels that girdied us round-

Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of a street,

Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death in the ground

 Mine? yes, a mine! Countermine! down, down! and creep thro' the hole!

 Keep the revolver in hand! you can hear him-the murderous mole!

Quiet, all quiet-wait till the point of the pickaxe be thro'?

 

 

Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer again than before-

Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no more;

And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew!

 

 

III.

 Ay, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on a day

 Soon as the blast of that underground thunderclap echo’d away,

Dark thro' the smoke and the sulphur like so many fiends in their hell-

Cannon-shot, musket-shot, volley on volley, and yell upon yell-

Fiercely on all the defences our myriad enemy fell.

 

 

What have they done? where is it? Out yonder. Guard the Redan!

Storm at the Water-gatel storm at the Balley-gatel storm, and it ran

Surging and swaying all round us, as ocean on every side

Plunges and heaves at a bank that is daily devour'd by the tide-

So many thousands that if they be bold enough, who shall escape?

Kill or be kill'd, live or die, they shall know we are soldiers and men