Half a league, half a league, |
Half a league
onward, |
All in the valley of Death |
Rode the six
hundred. |
‘Forward, the Light Brigade ! |
Charge for the guns ! ’ he said : |
Into the valley of Death |
Rode the six
hundred.
|
‘Forward, the Light Brigade ! ’ |
Was there a main dismay’d ? |
Not tho’ the soldier knew |
Some one had
blunder’d : |
Their’s not to make reply, |
Their’s not to reason why, |
Their’s but to do and die : |
Into the valley of Death |
Rode the six
hundred.
|
Cannon to right of them, |
Cannon to left of them, |
Cannon in front of them |
Volley’d and
thunder’d ; |
Storm’d at with shot and shell, |
Boldly they rode and well, |
Into the jaws of Death, |
Into the mouth of Hell |
Rode the six
hundred.
|
Flash’d all their sabres bare, |
Flash’d as they turn’d in air |
Sabring the gunners there, |
Charging an army, while |
All the world
wonder’d : |
Plunged in the battery smoke |
Right thro’ the line they broke ; |
Cossack and Russian |
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke |
Shatter’d and
sunder’d |
Then they rode back, but not |
Not the six
hundred.
|
Cannon to right of them, |
Cannon to left of them, |
Cannon behind them |
Volley’d and
thunder’d ; |
Storm’d at with shot and shell, |
While horse and hero fell, |
They that had fought so well |
Came thro’ the jaws of Death, |
Back from the mouth of Hell, |
All that was left of them, |
Left of six
hundred.
|
When can their glory fade ? |
O the wild charge they made ! |
All the world
wonder’d, |
Honour the charge they made ! |
Honour the Light Brigade, |
Noble six hundred
!
|
Alfred,
Lord Tennyson |
Classic Poems |
|
[ The Brook ] [ Blow, Bugle, Blow ] [ Come into the garden Maud ] [ Tithonus ] [ Ulysses ] [ Tears, Idle Tears ] [ The Lady of Shalott ] [ Song of the Lotus-Eaters ] [ The Charge of the Light Brigade ] [ In the Valley of Cauteretz ] [ In Memoriam ] [ The Eagle ] |