Classic Poem

Oh , that last day in Lucknow fort!
— We knew that it was the last;
That the enemy's lines crept surely on,
— And the end was coming fast.

To yield to that foe meant worse than death;
— And the men and we all worked on;
It was one day more of smoke and roar,
— And then it would all be done.

There was one of us, a corporal's wife,
— A fair, young, gentle thing,
Wasted with fever in the siege,
— And her mind was wandering.

She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid,
— And I took her head on my knee;
" When my father comes hame frae the pleugh, " she said,
— " Oh! then please wauken me. "

She slept like a child on her father's floor,
— In the flecking of woodbine-shade,
When the house-dog sprawls by the open door,
— And the mother's wheel is stayed.

It was smoke and roar and powder-stench,
— And hopeless waiting for death;
And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child,
— Seemed scarce to draw her breath.

I sank to sleep; and I had my dream
— Of an English village-lane,
And wall and garden; — but one wild scream
— Brought me back to the roar again.

There Jessie Brown stood listening
— Till a sudden gladness broke
All over her face; and she caught my hand
— And drew me near as she spoke: —

" The Hielanders! O! dinna ye hear
— The slogan far awa'?
The McGregor's. O! I ken it weel;
— It's the grandest o' them a'!

" God bless the bonny Hielanders!
— We're saved! we're saved! " she cried;
And fell on her knees; and thanks to God
— Flowed forth like a full flood-tide.

Along the battery-line her cry
— Had fallen among the men,
And they started back; — they were there to die;
— But was life so near them, then?

They listened for life; the rattling fire
— Far off, and the far-off roar,
Were all; and the colonel shook his head,
— And they turned to their guns once more.

But Jessie said, " The slogan's done;
— But winna ye hear it noo, —
The Campbells are comin'? It's no a dream;
— Our succors hae broken through! "

We heard the roar and the rattle afar,
— But the pipes we could not hear;
So the men plied their work of hopeless war,
— And knew that the end was near.

It was not long ere it made its way, —
— A thrilling, ceaseless sound:
It was no noise from the strife afar,
— Or the sappers under ground.

It was the pipes of the Highlanders!
— And now they played Auld Lang Syne ,
It came to our men like the voice of God,
— And they shouted along the line.

And they wept, and shook one another's hands,
— And the women sobbed in a crowd;
And every one knelt down where he stood,
— And we all thanked God aloud.

That happy time, when we welcomed them,
— Our men put Jessie first;
And the general gave her his hand, and cheers
— Like a storm from the soldiers burst.

And the pipers' ribbons and tartans streamed,
— Marching round and round our line;
And our joyful cheers were broken with tears,
— As the pipes played Auld Lang Syne .