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 242 DOYLE

Till suddenly shock upon shock

Staggered the mass from without,

Drove it in wild disarray,

For our men gallopt up with a cheer and a shout,

And the foemen surged, and wavered and reeled

Up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, out of th

field, And over the brow and away.

Glory to each and to all, and the charge that they

made! Glory to all the three hundred, and all the Brigade !

Tennyson.

��XCVI THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS

LAST night, among his fellow roughs,

He jested, quaffed, and swore; A drunken private of the Buffs,

Who never looked before. To-day, beneath the foeman's frown,

He stands in Elgin's place, Ambassador from Britain's crown

And type of all her race.

Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught,

Bewildered, and alone, A heart, with English instinct fraught,

He yet can call his own.

�� �