The Charge of the Light Brigade Ignites the Romance of War

The Charge of the Light Brigade took place on October 25, 1854 at the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War. Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) was the Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom when he wrote this poem.

What better way to stir the patriotic passions of little boys around the world than by lining up an array of anonymous cavalry soldiers under the flag of Britain (or France, or Turkey, or Russia, or ...) and sending them galloping to their deaths in a futile assault against a superior force in a doomed attempt to secure (or block), passage to the sea and expand (or limit), the rights of Christians in Palestine while accomplishing a bunch of other stuff that precious few remember but that resonate today.

What survives is the romance of war that spawns epic poetry. 

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.

2.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"

Was there a man dismay'd?

Not tho' the soldier knew

 Someone had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs 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,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

4.

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

Reel'd from the sabre stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

5.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

 Left of six hundred.

6.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.