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WILL

O WELL for him whose will is strong!

He suffers, but he will not suffer long ;

He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong :

For him nor moves the loud world's random mock, Nor all Calamity's hugest waves confound,

Who seems a promontory of rock,

That, compass'd round with turbulent sound,
In middle ocean meets the surging shock,

Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crown'd.

But ill for him who, bettering not with time, Corrupts the strength of heaven-descended Will,

And ever weaker grows thro' acted crime,
Or seeming-genial venial fault,
Recurring and suggesting still !
He seems as one whose footsteps halt,
Toiling in immeasurable sand,
And o’er a weary sultry land,
Far beneath a blazing vault,
Sown in a wrinkle of the monstrous hill,
The city sparkles like a grain of salt.

THE

CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

1.

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade !
“ Charge for the guns !” he said :
Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

“Forward, the Light Brigade !” Was there a man dismay'd ? Not tho’ the soldier knew

Some one had blunder'd : Their's not to make reply, Their's not to reason why, Their's but to do and die : Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

3.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd ; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well,

THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

169

Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn’d in air,

Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while

All the world wonder'd :

Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke ;
Cossack and Russian

Reeld from the sabre-stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,

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