Though thirty guns were ranged in front, not one e'en bated breath, Unfaltering, unflinching, they rode upon their death; Nor by five times their numbers of all arms could they be stayed, And with two lines for one of ours, e'en then the Russians paid. Till torn with shot and rent with shell, a spent and bleeding few, Life worn against those fearful odds from the grapple they withdrew; But still like wounded lions their faces to the foe, More conquerors than conquered, they fall back stern and slow. With dinted arms and wearied steeds, all bruised and soiled and torn, Is this the wreck of all that rode so bravely out that morn? Where thirty answered muster at dawn now answered ten, Ah! woe's me for such officers, woe's me for such men. Whose was the blame? name not his name, but rather seek to hide. If he live leave him to conscience, to God if he have died. But for you, brave band of heroes, your country knows you well; It asks not to what purpose, it knows but how you fell. MILITARY HEROISM. To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory, and for glory done Of triumph, to be styled great conquerors, Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods! Destroyers rightlier call'd, and plagues of men! _Milton._ Well, reader, the charge of our Light Brigade at Balaclava, backed up by that of the Heavies, will not die; it will be remembered when the bones of those who there sustained the honour of our Island lie rotting in the tomb! LITTLE INKERMANN.