Collected Poems 1897 - 1907, by Henry Newbolt Part 4

Without a word, without a groan, Sudden and swift Gillespie turned, The blood roared in his ears like fire, Like fire the road beneath him burned.

He thundered back to Arcot gate, He thundered up through Arcot town, Before he thought a second thought In the barrack yard he lighted down.

"Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons, Sound to saddle and spur," he said; "He that is ready may ride with me, And he that can may ride ahead."

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain, Behind him went the troopers grim, They rode as ride the Light Dragoons But never a man could ride with him.

Their rowels ripped their horses' sides, Their hearts were red with a deeper goad, But ever alone before them all Gillespie rode, Gillespie rode.

Alone he came to false Vellore, The walls were lined, the gates were barred; Alone he walked where the bullets bit, And called above to the Sergeant's Guard.

"Sergeant, Sergeant, over the gate, Where are your officers all?" he said; Heavily came the Sergeant's voice, "There are two living and forty dead."

"A rope, a rope," Gillespie cried : They bound their belts to serve his need.

There was not a rebel behind the wall But laid his barrel and drew his bead.

There was not a rebel among them all But pulled his trigger and cursed his aim, For lightly swung and rightly swung Over the gate Gillespie came.

He dressed the line, he led the charge, They swept the wall like a stream in spate, And roaring over the roar they heard The galloper guns that burst the gate.

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain, The troopers rode the reeking flight: The very stones remember still The end of them that stab by night.

They've kept the tale a hundred years, They'll keep the tale a hundred more: Riding at dawn, riding alone, Gillespie came to false Vellore.

Seringapatam

"The sleep that Tippoo Sahib sleeps Heeds not the cry of man; The faith that Tippoo Sahib keeps No judge on earth may scan; He is the lord of whom ye hold Spirit and sense and limb, Fetter and chain are all ye gain Who dared to plead with him."

Baird was bonny and Baird was young, His heart was strong as steel, But life and death in the balance hung, For his wounds were ill to heal.

"Of fifty chains the Sultan gave We have filled but forty-nine: We dare not fail of the perfect tale For all Golconda's mine."

That was the hour when Lucas first Leapt to his long renown; Like summer rains his anger burst, And swept their scruples down.

"Tell ye the lord to whom ye crouch, His fetters bite their fill: To save your oath I'll wear them both, And step the lighter still."

The seasons came, the seasons pa.s.sed, They watched their fellows die; But still their thought was forward cast, Their courage still was high.

Through tortured days and fevered nights Their limbs alone were weak, And year by year they kept their cheer, And spoke as freemen speak.

But once a year, on the fourth of June, Their speech to silence died, And the silence beat to a soundless tune And sang with a wordless pride; Till when the Indian stars were bright, And bells at home would ring, To the fetters' clank they rose and drank "England! G.o.d save the King!"

The years came, and the years went, The wheel full-circle rolled; The tyrant's neck must yet be bent, The price of blood be told: The city yet must hear the roar Of Baird's avenging guns, And see him stand with lifted hand By Tippoo Sahib's sons.

The lads were bonny, the lads were young, But he claimed a pitiless debt; Life and death in the balance hung, They watched it swing and set.

They saw him search with sombre eyes, They knew the place he sought; They saw him feel for the hilted steel, They bowed before his thought.

But he--he saw the prison there In the old quivering heat, Where merry hearts had met despair And died without defeat; Where feeble hands had raised the cup For feebler lips to drain, And one had worn with smiling scorn His double load of pain.

"The sleep that Tippoo Sahib sleeps Hears not the voice of man; The faith that Tippoo Sahib keeps No earthly judge may scan; For all the wrong your father wrought Your father's sons are free; Where Lucas lay no tongue shall say That Mercy bound not me."

A Ballad of John Nicholson

It fell in the year of Mutiny, At darkest of the night, John Nicholson by Jalandhar came, On his way to Delhi fight.

And as he by Jalandhar came, He thought what he must do, And he sent to the Rajah fair greeting, To try if he were true.

"G.o.d grant your Highness length of days, And friends when need shall be; And I pray you send your Captains. .h.i.ther, That they may speak with me."

On the morrow through Jalandhar town The Captains rode in state; They came to the house of John Nicholson, And stood before the gate.

The chief of them was Mehtab Singh, He was both proud and sly; His turban gleamed with rubies red, He held his chin full high.

He marked his fellows how they put Their shoes from off their feet; "Now wherefore make ye such ado These fallen lords to greet?

"They have ruled us for a hundred years, In truth I know not how, But though they be fain of mastery They dare not claim it now."

Right haughtily before them all The durbar hall he trod, With rubies red his turban gleamed, His feet with pride were shod.

They had not been an hour together, A scanty hour or so, When Mehtab Singh rose in his place And turned about to go.

Then swiftly came John Nicholson Between the door and him, With anger smouldering in his eyes, That made the rubies dim.

"You are over-hasty, Mehtab Singh,"--- Oh, but his voice was low!

He held his wrath with a curb of iron That furrowed cheek and brow.

"You are overhasty, Mehtab Singh, When that the rest are gone, I have a word that may not wait To speak with you alone."

The Captains pa.s.sed in silence forth And stood the door behind; To go before the game was played Be sure they had no mind.

But there within John Nicholson Turned him on Mehtab Singh, "So long as the soul is in my body You shall not do this thing.

"Have ye served us for a hundred years And yet ye know not why?

We brook no doubt of our mastery, We rule until we die.

"Were I the one last Englishman Drawing the breath of life, And you the master-rebel of all That stir this land to strife---

"Were I," he said, "but a Corporal, And you a Rajput King, So long as the soul was in my body You should not do this thing.

"Take off, take off, those shoes of pride, Carry them whence they came; Your Captains saw your insolence, And they shall see your shame."

When Mehtab Singh came to the door His shoes they burned his hand, For there in long and silent lines He saw the Captains stand.