The Soldiers' Battle

November 5: 1854

In the solid sombre mist And the drizzling dazzling shower They may mass them as they list, The gray-coat Russian power; They are fifties 'gainst our tens, they, and more! And from the fortress-town In silent squadrons down O'er the craggy mountain-crown Unseen, they pour.

On the meagre British line That northern ocean press'd; But we never knew how few Were we who held the crest! While within the curtain-mist dark shadows loom Making the gray more gray, Till the volley-flames betray With one flash the long array: And then, the gloom.

For our narrow line too wide On the narrow crest we stood, And in pride we named it Home, As we sign'd it with our blood. And we held-on all the morning, and the tide Of foes on that low dyke Surged up, and fear'd to strike, Or on the bayonet-spike Flung them, and died.

It was no covert, that, 'Gainst the shrieking cannon-ball! But the stout hearts of our men Were the bastion and the wall:-- And their chiefs hardly needed give command; For they tore through copse and gray Mist that before them lay, And each man fought, that day, For his own hand!

Yet should we not forget 'Gainst that dun sea of foes How Egerton bank'd his line, Till in front a cloud uprose From the level rifle-mouths; and they dived With bayonet-thrust beneath; Clench'd teeth and sharp-drawn breath, Plunging to certain death,-- And yet survived!

Nor the gallant chief who led Those others, how he fell; When our men the captive guns Set free they loved so well, And embraced them as live things, by loss endear'd:-- Nor, when the crucial stroke On their last asylum broke, And e'en those hearts of oak Might well have fear'd,--

How Stanley to the fore The citadel rush'd to guard, With that old Albuera cry Fifty-seventh! Die hard! Yet saw not how his lads clear the crest, And, each one confronting five, The stubborn squadrons rive, And backward, downward, drive,-- --Death-call'd to rest!

--O proud and sad for thee! And proud and sad for those Who on that stern foreign field Not seeking, found repose, As for England dear their life they gladly shed! Yet in death bethought them where, Not on these hillsides bare, But within sweet English air Their own home-dead

In a green and sure repose Beside God's house are laid:-- Then faced the charging foes Unmoved, unhelp'd, unafraid:-- For they knew that God would rate each shatter'd limb Death-torn for England's sake, And in Christ's own mercy take On the day when souls shall wake, Their souls to Him!

The battle of Inkermann was mainly fought on a ridge of rock which projects from the south-eastern angle of Sebastapol: the English centre of operations being the ill-fortified line named the 'Home Ridge.' The numbers engaged in field-operations, roughly speaking, were 4,000 English against 40,000 Russians.

The curtain-mist; The battle began about 6 A.M. under heavy mist and drizzling rain, which lasted for several hours. Through this curtain the Russian forces coming down from the hill were seen only when near enough to darken the mist by their masses.

Egerton; He commanded four companies of the 77th, and charged early in the battle with brilliant success;--his men, about 250, scattering 1500 Russians.

The gallant chief; General Soimonoff, killed just after Egerton's charge.

With that old Albuera cry; Prominent in the defence of the English main base of operations, the Home Ridge, against a weighty Russian advance, was Captain Stanley, commanding the 57th. This regiment, it was said, at the battle of Albuera had been encouraged by its colonel with the words, 'Fifty-seventh, die hard':--and Stanley, having less than 400 against 2000, thought the time had come to remind his 'Die-hards' of their traditional gallantry;--after which he himself at once fell mortally wounded.