Classic Poem

Tis not success that sends
Blood to the heart, and water to the eye,
That stirs all England to accordant cry,
" How shall we make amends
To them that nobly win or nobly lose?"
Not by deed's issue, but by deed we choose.

There is death in defeat,
That shows far nobler than victorious life.
Honour to those who weave their crowns of strife
In Peace's garland sweet,
But honour, too, to those whose crowns are clenched
In death-stark hands, with high hearts' life-blood drenched.

Take England's praise and thanks,
You, brave young Officers, brave Rank and File,
Who beat back Zulu strength, foiled Zulu guile,
On Buffalo's bare banks,
A handful 'gainst a host, through a long night
Of desperate leaguer and unequal fight.

Take thanks and honour too,
You that, o'er-swept by sudden-surging waves
Of savage foes, in their slain heaps found graves;
And of them chiefly, you,
Young pair of Paladins, who clave your way,
Bearing the colours from that fatal fray.

C OGHILL and M ELVILLE — names
That need no stone, in English hearts writ deep;
Upon the Buffalo's scorched bank they sleep —
Two boys — immortal fames!
One heart flag-folded, one as brave, I wis,
That in its last beat knew no pang but this,

'Twas his friend's prouder fate,
To wrap those Colours round his bleeding breast,
His , knee to knee to strive and strike his best,
O'er sand and thorough spate,
Ready whene'er from selle his comrade reeled
To snatch that charge, which but dead hands would yield.

Through storm of shot and spear,
Red with their own and their pursuers' blood,
On, on, o'er steep and stone, on to the flood,
That rolls, storm-swollen, near —
A lift, a leap, their horses breast the tide!
Strike shot, rain spear! with charmed lives they ride!

Alas, 'twas not to be.
Life's spark but lit them to the bank to die;
There, scarred with shot and assegai, they lie,
Side by side, peacefully.
The red flag round one heart of two that vowed
To save it — take it, both, for common shroud.

This homage paid the dead —
Who could no more save life than honour lose —
Take England's thanks and praise, their well-earned dues
Who held that leaguered shed,
Setting Rorke's Drift, till now unhonoured name,
By Plassy and Assaye, and fights of fame.