Part 1 — THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.
Reading edition
(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."
She slept like a child on her father's floor In the flecking of wood-bine shade, When the house-dog sprawls by the open door, And the mother's wheel is stay'd.
It was smoke and roar, and powder-stench, And hopeless waiting for death: But the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, Seem'd scarce to draw her breath.
I sank to sleep, and I had my dream, Of an English village-lane, And wall and garden;—a sudden scream Brought me back to the roar again.
Then Jessie Brown stood listening, And then a broad gladness broke All over her face, and she took my hand And drew me near and spoke:
"The Highlanders! Oh! dinna ye hear The slogan far awa— The McGregor's? Ah! I ken it weel; It's the grandest o' them a'.
"God bless thae bonny Highlanders! We're saved! we're saved!" she cried: And fell on her knees, and thanks to God Pour'd forth, like a full flood-tide.
Along the battery-line her cry Had fallen among the men: And they started, for they were there to die: Was life so near them then?
They listen'd, for life: and the rattling fire Far off, and the far-off roar Were all:—and the colonel shook his head, And they turn'd to their guns once more.
Then Jessie said—"That slogan's dune; But can ye no hear them, noo,— The Campbells are comin'? It's no a dream; Our succours hae broken through!"
We heard the roar and the rattle afar But the pipes we could not hear; So the men plied their work of hopeless war, And knew that the end was near.
It was not long ere it must be heard,— A shrilling, ceaseless sound: It was no noise of the strife afar, Or the sappers underground.
It was the pipes of the Highlanders, And now they play'd "Auld Lang Syne:" It came to our men like the voice of God, And they shouted along the line.
And they wept and shook one another's hands, And the women sobb'd in a crowd: And every one knelt down where we stood, And we all thank'd God aloud.
That happy day when we welcomed them, Our men put Jessie first; And the General took her hand, and cheers From the men, like a volley, burst.
And the pipers' ribbons and tartan stream'd Marching round and round our line; And our joyful cheers were broken with tears, For the pipes play'd "Auld Lang Syne."