ROLL OF THE KETTLEDRUM 



The terrible shock, the recoil, and the splendid 

 Bare sword, flashing blue, rising red from 

 the blow. 



I've borne one through perils where many- 

 have seen us, 

 No tyrant, a kind friend, a patient instructor, 

 And I've felt some strange element flashing 

 between us. 

 Till the saddle seem'd turn'd to a lightning 

 conductor. 



Did he see ? could he feel through the faint- 

 ness, the numbness, 

 While linger'd the spirit half-loosed from 

 the clay, 

 Dumb eyes seeking his in their piteous 

 dumbness, 

 Dumb quivering nostrils, too stricken to 

 neigh ? 



And what then ? the colours reversed, the 



drums muflled. 



The black nodding plumes, the dead march, 



and the pall, 



163 



