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g or pine? "O, anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, Colonel! You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!" Oh, evil the black shroud of night of Chantilly, That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried! Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily, The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride! Yet we dream that he still,--in that shadowy region Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's sign,-- Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, And the word still is "Forward!" along the whole line. EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. THE CAVALRY CHARGE WITH bray of the trumpet And roll of the drum, And keen ring of bugle, The cavalry come. Sharp clank the steel scabbards The bridle chains ring, And foam from red nostrils The wild chargers fling. Tramp! tramp! o'er the greensward That quivers below, Scarce held by the curb bit The fierce horses go! And the grim-visaged colonel, With ear-rending shout, Peals forth to the squadrons The order: "Trot out!" One hand on the saber, And one on the rein, The troopers move forward In line on the plain. As rings the word, "Gallop!" The steel scabbards clank; As each rowel is pressed To a horse's hot flank; And swift is their rush And the wild torrents flow, When it pours from the crag On the valley below. "Charge!" thunders the leader; Like shaft from the bow Each mad horse is hurled On the wavering foe. A thousand bright sabers Are gleaming in air; A thousand dark horses Are dashed on the square. Resistless and reckless Of aught may betide, Like demons, not mortals The wild troopers ride. Cut right! and cut left! For the parry who needs? The bayonets shiver Like wind-scattered reeds. Vain--vain the red volley That bursts from the square,-- The random-shot bullets Are wasted in air. Triumphant, remorseless, Unerring as death,-- No saber that's stainless Returns to its sheath. The wounds that are dealt By that murderous steel Will never yield case For the surgeon to heal. Hurrah! they are broken-- Hurrah! boys, they fly! None linger save those
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