What are the bugles saying Of the stand that was heel to heel? The click of the quick-pressed lever, The glint of the naked steel, The flame of the steady volley, The hope that was almost gone, As the leaping horde of the tribesmen Swept as a tide sweeps on! _Bugles of Talavera!_ What are the bugles saying? They say that the teeth are set, They say that the breath comes thicker, And the blood-red Night is wet; While the rough blunt speech of the English, The burr of the shires afar, Falls with a lone brave pathos ’Mid the hills of the Saransar! _Bugles of Talavera!_ What are the bugles saying? They say that the English there Feel a breath from their island meadows Like incense fill the air! They say that they stood for a moment With their dear ones by their side, For their spirits swept to the Homeland Before the English died! _Bugles of Talavera!_ And aye are the bugles saying, While the dust lies low i’ the dust, The strength of a strong man’s fighting, The crown of the soldier’s trust-- The wine of a full-brimmed battle, The peace of the quiet grave, And a wreath from the hands of glory Are the guerdon of the brave! _Bugles of Talavera!_ _John Renton Denning._ KIPLING CCXII THE GALLEY-SLAVE O gallant was our galley from her carven steering-wheel To her figurehead of silver and her beak of hammered steel; The leg-bar chafed the ankle and we gasped for cooler air, But no galley on the water with our galley could compare! Our bulkheads bulged with cotton and our masts were stepped in gold-- We ran a mighty merchandise of niggers in the hold; The white foam spun behind us, and the black shark swam below, As we gripped the kicking sweep-head and we made that galley go. It was merry in the galley, for we revelled now and then-- If they wore us down like cattle, faith, we fought and loved like men! As we snatched her through the water, so we snatched a minute’s bliss, And the mutter of the dying never spoiled the lovers’ kiss. Our women and our children toiled beside us in the dark-- They died, we filed their fetters, and we heaved them to the shark-- We heaved them to the fishes, but so fast the galley sped We had only time to envy, for we could not mourn our dead. Bear witness, once my comrades, what a hard-bit gang were we-- The servants of the sweep-head but the masters of the sea! By the hands that drove her forward as she plunged and yawed and sheered, Woman, Man, or God or Devil, was there anything we feared? Was it storm? Our fathers faced it and a wilder never blew; Earth that waited for the wreckage watched the galley struggle through. Burning noon or choking midnight, Sickness, Sorrow, Parting, Death? Nay, our very babes would mock you had they time for idle breath.