On through the portal's frowning arch, "Fill every beaker up, my men, Pour forth the cheering wine; There's life and strength in every drop,― Thanksgiving to the vine! Are ye all there, my vassals true?— Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, "Ye're there, but yet I see ye not. Bowl rang to bowl,-steel clanged to steel -And rose a deafening cry That made the torches flare around, And shook the flags on high : : "Ho! cravens, do ye fear him?Slaves, traitors! have ye flown? Ho! cowards, have ye left me To meet him here alone? "But I defy him :-let him come !" Down rang the massy cup, While from its sheath the ready blade Came flashing half-way up; And, with the black and heavy plumes Scarce trembling on his head, There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE AT BALAKLAVA. TENNYSON. HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Some one had blundered: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs but to do and die, Cannon to right of them, Cannon in front of them Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Rode the six hundred: Flashed all their sabres bare, All the world wondered: Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not― Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered; They that had fought so well Left of six hundred. When can their glory fade? Noble six hundred! BEAUTIFUL SNOW.-WATSON.. OH! the snow, the beautiful snow, Skimming along. Beautiful snow! it can do nothing wrong. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow! How the flakes gather and laugh as they go! Whirling about in its maddening fun, It plays in its glee with every one. Chasing, It lights up the face and it sparkles the eye; How the wild crowd goes swaying along, Dashing they go Over the crest of the beautiful snow: Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by: Once I was pure as the snow-but I fell : Pleading, Dreading to die, Selling my soul to whoever would buy, Once I was fair as the beautiful snow, With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its glow; Flattered and sought for the charm of my face. Father, Sisters all, God, and myself, I have lost by my fall. The veriest wretch that goes shivering by Will take a wide sweep, lest I wander too nigh; There is nothing that's pure but the beautiful snow. How strange it should be that this beautiful snow Fainting, |