[Needs edit/cleaning up...]
BALAKLAVA
WHAT master hand shall set on the right path
These our blind guides, that wander to and fro?
What pen shall write the nation's helpless wrath?
What cry shall speak its woe?
That noble army, that so stirred our pride —
So stout, so well-equipped, so trim arrayed
Melts like a snow-wreath from a warm hill-side,
And we can give no aid!
That starving army haunts us night and day;
Clouding our gladness, deepening our care;
By our warm hearths — "Alas, no fire have they!"
Snow falls —" 'tis falling there!"
We strive to chase the phantom: still it bides;
Stretches gaunt hands between us and our meat;
In our warm beds, lies freezing at our sides:
Trips up our dancing feet.
"Why hauntest thou us, grim spectre? "Twas not we
Who brought thee to this miserable end.
As flowed thy blood for us, our gold for thee
We, without stint, did spend.
"All art we had, all industry, all skill,
To feed and clothe, and lodge thee, was bestowed."
Thus from the blue hips, agonised and shrill,
The spectre's answer flowed:
"My blood is on your heads! My blood, not spilt
As soldiers' bluod should be, upon the field.
Oh! that I had but fallen, hilt to hilt,
Like Spartan on his shield!
"A soldier, I had met the soldier's death, —
Nor grudged the life so for my country given.
But thus, like beasts, not men, to yield man's breath,
Uncared for, over-driven —
"Rotting in our own filth, like mangy hounds,
Cramped, frost and hunger-bitten to the bones,
Wrestling with death 'mid: smells, and sights, and sounds
That turn kind hearts to stones.
"To die for very lack of clothes and food,
Of shelter, bedding, medicine, and fire;
While six miles off lay, piled up many a rood,
All we did so require!
"This guilt lies at your door. You wear no crown —
But what is She who wears it unto you?
You raise up ministers and pluck them down:
What you will, they must do.
"Tf ther put leadership in baby hands,
"Tis that you wiink, or slumber, or approve;
If, like an iron wall, Routine still stands;
You will, and it must move?
If Aristocracy's cold shadow fall
Across the soldier's path, to you is given
The might to rend away that ancient pall,
And let in light of Heaven!
'I vas the People's soldier. In their name
I stood against the CZARn battle's hour,
If I, not he, be baffled, rest the shame
With you, that have the power!"
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