The Fusiliers' Dog o *^ *^> *^> 



{Lately run over, after having gone through the 

 Crimean Campaign) 



f~~*~ O lift him gently from the wheels, 

 ^^ And soothe his dying pain, 

 For love and care e'en yet he feels 



Though love and care be vain ; 

 Tis sad that, after all these years, 



Our comrade and our friend, 

 The brave dog of the Fusiliers, 



Should meet with such an end. 



Up Alma's hill, among the vines, 



We laughed to see him trot, 

 Then frisk along the silent lines, 



To chase the rolling shot : 

 And, when the work waxed hard by day, 



And hard and cold by night ; 

 When that November morning lay 



Upon us, like a blight, 



And eyes were strained, and ears were bent, 



Against the muttering north, 

 Till the grey mist took shape, and sent 



Grey scores of Russians forth — 

 Beneath that slaughter wild and grim, 



Nor man nor dog would run ; 

 He stood by us, and we by him, 



Till the great fight was done. 

 179 



