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Wednesday, December 09, 2015

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Alfred, Lord Tennyson's famous poem, "The Charge of the Light Brigade," was published in England on December 9, 1854 - 161 years ago today. The actual Charge of the Light Brigade took place on October 25, 1854, during the Crimean War when an English brigade of 600 men charged heavily-fortified Russian army positions in the Battle of Balaclava in what is present-day Ukraine. The British were armed with lances and sabres and were cut to pieces by Russian artillery.

The "Charge of the Light Brigade" took place on Oct. 25, 1854, during the Crimean War as an English brigade of 600 men charged the Russian army in the Battle of Balaclava (Ukraine),  suffering heavy losses. The event is memorialized by this famous poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson - See more at: http://tonyphyrillas.blogspot.com/search?q=Brigade#sthash.O4EPb0FJ.dpuf
The "Charge of the Light Brigade" took place on Oct. 25, 1854, during the Crimean War as an English brigade of 600 men charged the Russian army in the Battle of Balaclava (Ukraine),  suffering heavy losses. The event is memorialized by this famous poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson - See more at: http://tonyphyrillas.blogspot.com/search?q=Brigade#sthash.O4EPb0FJ.dpuf

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
   Someone had blundered.
   Theirs not to make reply,
   Theirs not to reason why,
   Theirs 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!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thanks Tony. It's been years since I've read that poem.