The Charge of the light Brigade
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Some one had blundered:
Their’s not to make reply,
Their’s not to reason why,
Their’s but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre-stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not,
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came through 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 wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
Chapter from Savage and the Princess: My 1993 version drugged by the rhythm of Tennyson
Sparks rode as hell had no fury’s name
Out aside with sword and shame
Pulled out his silver lancet sharp
Hunting gave his glory fame
And down the woods the Lion came
Sharp the eyes mammoth the frame
And quick before the sound through harp
Savage down from his horses came
And eyes across eyes did meet
And two animals none could tame
As though the silence could much speak
Their grey eyes a single burning flame
Sparks – Savage was not just in name
One strike left the lion lame
One must the other eat
Both animals were on their feet!
A roar the wounded lion gave
Amidst the rising passion – a scratch
The blood: Sparks could not save
And silence then became discreet
The pride and arrogance left insane
A smile reached the wounded Savage eye
His arm bleeding like it rains
His lancet one and a half metres long
Swished across the air like a song
The lion was faster than most
The lion played the jungle host
His claws penetrated Savage guts
And deep, deeper the bloody cuts
While seeing blood – his own
Made Sparks smile
A battle A battle A battle
A mile
Sparks adored the lion’s style
And speed he had to catch up in a while
The golden mane he came close
And as the scarlet blood flows
Swish, went the Savage eyes
The lancet moved faster
Hard and high
The sabre cut the lion’s throat
A smile
The hunter gave a gloat
And Savage killed with poetic rhythm
Killing on slander; the Savage anthem
Night after night, day after day
It was the same, the savage and his bloody games
As evil Sparks gained Savage name
And hoofs thundered
And earth shuddered
As Savage came
And Savage came
