Charge of the Light Brigade

 

Ancient Terran poem adapted by local minstrel to describe battle at bastion of Saint Drusus during native insurgency 817.M41.
I
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
   Marched the three hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the heathens!” he said.
Into the valley of Death
   marched the three hundred.
II
“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
   Marched the three hundred.
III
Auto-gun to right of them,
Auto-gun to left of them,
Auto-gun in front of them
   Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they charged and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
   Charged the three hundred.
IV
Flashed all their bayonets bare,
Flashed as they pierced the air
Impaling the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
   All the world wondered.
Plunged in the ordnace-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Primitives and conspirators
Reeled from the sabre stroke
   Shattered and sundered.
Their leader survived, but not
   Not the three hundred.
V
Auto-gun to right of them,
Auto-gun to left of them,
Auto-gun behind them
   Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While guardsmen and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
One that was left of them,
   Left of three hundred.
VI
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 three hundred!