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THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW

(1857)

The siege of the Residency of Lucknow by the Sepoys had lasted three months before Havelock and Outram succeeded in relieving it. (The siege was not finally raised till six months later by Sir Colin Campbell.)

PIPES of the misty moorlands,
Voice of the glens and hills;
The droning of the torrents,
The treble of the rills!

Not the braes of broom and heather,
Nor the mountains dark with rain,
Nor maiden bower, nor border tower,
Have heard your sweetest strain!

Dear to the Lowland reaper,
And plaided mountaineer,-
To the cottage and the castle
The Scottish pipes are dear;-
Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch,
O'er mountain, loch, and glade ;
But the sweetest of all music
The pipes at Lucknow played.

Day by day the Indian tiger
Louder yelled, and nearer crept;
Round and round the jungle-serpent
Near and nearer circles swept.

'Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,-
Pray to-day!' the soldier said;
'To-morrow, death 's between us

And the wrong and shame we dread.'

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Oh, they listened, looked, and waited,
Till their hope became despair;
And the sobs of low bewailing
Filled the pauses of their prayer.
Then up spake a Scottish maiden,
With her ear unto the ground:

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'Dinna ye hear it?—dinna ye hear it? The pipes o' Havelock sound!'

Hushed the wounded man his groaning;

Hushed the wife her little ones;

Alone they heard the drum-roll

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And the roar of Sepoy guns.

But to sounds of home and childhood
The Highland ear was true ;-

As her mother's cradle-crooning
The mountain pipes she knew.

Like the march of soundless music
Through the vision of the seer,
More of feeling than of hearing,

Of the heart than of the ear,
She knew the droning pibroch,
She knew the Campbell's call:
'Hark! hear ye no' MacGregor's,
The grandest o' them all!"

Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless,
And they caught the sound at last;
Faint and far beyond the Goomtee
Rose and fell the piper's blast!
Then a burst of wild thanksgiving
Mingled woman's voice and man's;

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God be praised!—the march of Havelock! 55
The piping of the clans!'

Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance,
Sharp and shrill as swords at strife,
Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call,
Stinging all the air to life.

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But when the far-off dust-cloud
To plaided legions grew,
Full tenderly and blithesomely
The pipes of rescue blew!

Round the silver domes of Lucknow,
Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine,
Breathed the air to Britons dearest,
The air of Auld Lang Syne.

O'er the cruel roll of war-drums

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Rose that sweet and home-like strain;

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And the tartan clove the turban,

As the Goomtee cleaves the plain.

Dear to the corn-land reaper
And plaided mountaineer,-
To the cottage and the castle
The piper's song is dear.
Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch
O'er mountain, glen, and glade ;
But the sweetest of all music

The Pipes at Lucknow played!

J. G. WHITTIER.

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17. the Indian tiger, i. e. the Sepoys. [See Tenniel's famous cartoon of the time in Punch.]

45-6. Each clan has its own 'pibroch' or distinguishing piece of music, which is played on the bagpipes.

51. Goomtee. A tributary of the Ganges,

HAVELOCK
(1857)

General Sir Henry Havelock died of dysentery in Lucknow two months after he had relieved the Residency.

[See Forbes's 'Sir Henry Havelock', in English Men of Action Series.]

HE is gone. Heaven's will is best,
India turf o'erlies his breast,

Ghoul in black, nor fool in gold
Laid him in yon hallowed mould.
Guarded to a soldier's grave
By the bravest of the brave
He hath gained a nobler tomb
Than in old cathedral gloom,
Nobler mourners paid the rite
Than the crowd that craves a sight,
England's banners o'er him waved-
Dead he keeps the realm he saved.
Strew not on the hero's hearse
Garlands of a herald's verse;
Let us hear no words of fame
Sounding loud a deathless name;
Tell us of no vauntful glory
Shouting forth her haughty story.
All life long his homage rose
To far other shrine than those.
IN HOC SIGNO', pale nor dim,
Lit the battlefield for him,
And the prize he sought and won
Was the Crown for Duty done.

S. BROOKS.

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22. In hoc signo. Sc. vinces. By this sign shalt thou conquer.' In 312 Constantine, before a battle, saw a cross in the heavens bearing this inscription; he emblazoned it on his banner, and gained a complete victory. The apparition is celebrated in the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross.

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F

THE WAR

(1859)

In 1858 an attempt was made on Napoleon III's life by Orsini and others. It was well known that these men had come from London, where they had made all their plans and manufactured their bombs. The indignation in France led Napoleon to publish a letter from French officers demanding to be led against 'the land that sheltered monsters'. The reply in England was the formation of the Volunteer Rifle Corps, now merged in the Territorial Army.

THERE is a sound of thunder afar,

Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Storm! storm! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts, and take good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,

Than a rotten fleet or a city in flames!

Form! form! Riflemen form!

Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

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