12.04.2012, 09:33
Charles Napier
Great spirit, fierce as fire and swift as wind,
Two passions lit thee ever, lover, a flame
Consuming all that set their hands of shame
To grind the toiler, white or tawny-skinned;
And the high joy of battle, that throught Ind
Swept thee resistless, till thy slogan name
Rang out from all thine Irish, as they came
On to the last red fight that shattered Scinde.
Through all thy days the soldier's meed was thine:
-The hate of all the huckstring rabble, scorn
From every politic serf and minion vain,
-Homage of all that love the will divine,
The knightly faith, the life to service sworn,
The sword-bright honour, true and free from stain.
Great spirit, fierce as fire and swift as wind,
Two passions lit thee ever, lover, a flame
Consuming all that set their hands of shame
To grind the toiler, white or tawny-skinned;
And the high joy of battle, that throught Ind
Swept thee resistless, till thy slogan name
Rang out from all thine Irish, as they came
On to the last red fight that shattered Scinde.
Through all thy days the soldier's meed was thine:
-The hate of all the huckstring rabble, scorn
From every politic serf and minion vain,
-Homage of all that love the will divine,
The knightly faith, the life to service sworn,
The sword-bright honour, true and free from stain.