The Charge of the
Martin Brigade
Alfred Lord Tennyson
1855
Half a mile, half a mile,
Half a mile onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode Martin Van Buren.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode Martin Van Buren.
'Forward, the Martin Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' Martin knew
Some one had blunder'd:
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 Martin Van Buren.
Cannon to right of him,
Cannon to left of him,
Cannon in front of him
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly he rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode Martin Van Buren.
Flash'd all his sabres bare,
Flash'd as he turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line he broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then he rode back, but not
Not Martin Van Buren.
Cannon to right of him,
Cannon to left of him,
Cannon behind him
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
He that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of him,
Left of Martin Van Buren.
When can his glory fade ?
O the wild charge he made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge he made!
Honour the Martin Brigade,
Noble Martin Van Buren!
