mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turned in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd;
Plunged in the battery smoke
Right thro' the line they broke,
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not--
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O, the wild charge they made.
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

AFTER BALACLAVA,

BY JAMES WILLIAMS.

The fierce wild charge was over; back to old England's shore
Were borne her gallant troopers, who ne'er would battle more;
In hospital at Chatham, by Medway's banks they lay,
Dragoon, hussar, and lancer, survivors of the fray.

One day there came a message--'twas like a golden ray--
"Victoria, Britain's noble Queen, will visit you to-day;"
It lighted up each visage, it acted like a spell,
On Britain's wounded heroes, who'd fought for her so well.

One soldier lay among them, fast fading was his life,
A lancer from the border, from the good old county Fife;
Already was death's icy grasp upon his honest brow,
When through the ward was passed the word, "The Queen is coming
now!"

The dying Scottish laddie, with hand raised to his head,
Saluted Britain's Sovereign, and with an effort said--
"And may it please your Majesty, I'm noo aboot to dee,
I'd like to rest wi' mither, beneath the auld raugh tree.

"But weel I ken, your Majesty, it canna, mauna be,
Yet, God be thanked, I might hae slept wi' ithers o'er the sea,
'Neath Balaclava's crimsoned sward, where many a comrade fell,
But now I'll rest on Medway's bank, in sound of Christian b