Part 1 / Book 4 / Act 3 — THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.
Reading edition
[September 25, 1857.]
O, that last day in Lucknow fort! We knew that it was the last; That the enemy's lines crept surely on. And the end was coming fast.
To yield to that foe meant worse than death; And the men and we all worked 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! then please wauken me."
She slept like a child on her father's floor, In the flecking of woodbine-shade, When the house-dog sprawls by the open door, And the mother's wheel is stayed.
It was smoke and roar and powder-stench, And hopeless waiting for death; And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, Seemed scarce to draw her breath.
I sank to sleep; and I had my dream Of an English village-lane. And wall and garden;—but one wild scream Brought me back to the roar again.
There Jessie Brown stood listening Till a sudden gladness broke All over her face; and she caught my hand And drew me near as she spoke:—
"The Hielanders! O, dinna ye hear The slogan far awa, The McGregor's?—O, I ken it weel; It's the grandest o' them a'!
"God bless thae bonny Hielanders! We're saved! we're saved!" she cried; And fell on her knees; and thanks to God Flowed forth like a full flood-tide.
Along the battery-line her cry Had fallen among the men, And they started back;—they were there to die; But was life so near them, then?
They listened for life; the rattling fire Far off, and the far-off roar, Were all; and the colonel shook his head, And they turned to their guns once more.
But Jessie said, "The slogan's done; But winna ye hear it noo, The Campbells are comin'? It's no' a dream; Our succors 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 made its way,— A thrilling, ceaseless sound: It was no noise from the strife afar, Or the sappers under ground.
It was the pipes of the Highlanders! And now they played 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 sobbed in a crowd; And every one knelt down where he stood, And we all thanked God aloud.
That happy day, when we welcomed them, Our men put Jessie first; And the general gave her his hand, and cheers Like a storm from the soldiers burst.
And the pipers' ribbons and tartan streamed, Marching round and round our line; And our joyful cheers were broken with tears, As the pipes played Auld Long Syne.
ROBERT T.S. LOWELL.
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