Page:Old Melbourne Memories.djvu/273

 AN INCIDENT OF THE INDIAN MUTINY

the old tower they stand at bay, Where the Moslem fought of old; True to their race, in that sad day Their lives are dearly sold.

They are but three; a woman fair, A boy of fearless brow, He, whom she vowed to love is there— God help her! then and now.

With fiercer leaguer never did Those rugged stones resound, As the swarthy yelling masses swayed The time-worn keep around.

Our death-doomed brothers fired fast, Our sister loaded well; With each rifle-crack a spirit passed; By scores the rebels fell.