The Relief of Lucknow
[September 25, 1857]
O, 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 thae 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 day, 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 tartan streamed,
Marching round and round our line;
And our joyful cheers were broken with tears,
As the pipes played Auld Lang Syne.