Classic Poem

When the breach was open laid,
Bold we mounted to the attack:
Five times the assault was made;
Four times were we driven back!
But the fifth time up we strode,
O'er the dying and the dead.
Red the western sunbeams glowed,
Sinking in a blaze of red;
Redder in the gory way
Our deep plashing footsteps sank,
As the cry of " Slay — Slay — Slay! "
Echoed fierce from rank to rank.
And we slew, and slew, and slew:
Slew them with unpitying sword.
Negligently could we do
The commanding of the Lord?
Fled the coward, fought the brave,
Wept the widow, wailed the child;
But there did not 'scape the glaive
Man that frowned, nor babe that smiled.
There were thrice ten thousand men
When that morning's sun arose;
Lived not thrice three hundred when
Sunk that sun at evening's close.
Then we spread the wasting flame,
Fed to fury by the wind:
Of the city — but the name,
Nothing else, remained behind.
But it burned not till it gave
All it had to yield of spoil:
Should not brave soldadoes have
Some rewarding for their toil?
What the villain sons of trade
Earned by years of toil and care,
Prostrate at our bidding laid,
In one moment won — was there.
Hall and palace, dome and tower,
Lowly cot and soaring spire,
Sank in that victorious hour
Which consigned the town to fire.
Then throughout the burning town,
'Mid the steaming heaps of dead,
Cheered by sound of hostile moan,
We the gorgeous banquet spread:
Laughing loud and quaffing long,
At our glorious labor o'er,
To the skies our jocund song
Told Magdeburgh was no more!