CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE

THIS POEM WAS WRITTEN ABOUT THE BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA - THE BRITISH AGAINST THE RUSSIANS - WHICH OCCURRED ON OCTOBER 25, 1854, DURING THE CRIMEAN WAR.

RUSSIA WANTED TO TAKE CONTROL OF THE CRIMEAN PENINSULA, WHICH WAS CONTROLLED THE OTTOMAN TURKS; THE AREA WOULD GIVE RUSSIA A YEAR-ROUND NAVAL PORT IN A STRATEGIC LOCATION IN THE BLACK SEA.

LORD CARDIGAN (1797-1868), WAS FAMED FOR TWO THINGS: LEADING THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE, AND FOR THE KNITTED JACKET NAMED AFTER HIM.

THIS POEM RECOUNTS THE DARING BUT DISASTEROUS ASSAULT BY THE BRITISH AGAINST THE RUSSIAN ARTILLERY LINE. ONLY 195 OF THE 675 SOLDIERS IN THE LIGHT BRIGADE SURVIVED.

SOME FEEL THIS POEM RIDICULES THE GLORIFICATON OF WAR AND THE PEONS WHO BLINDLY FOLLOW ORDERS.

BUT THE OBEDIENT ACTS OF SELF-SACRIFICE AND COURAGE MERIT BOTH ADMIRATION AND GRATITUDE.

To obtain more feeling with this poem, say it out loud

CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE

BY LORD ALFRED TENNYSON


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
Someone had blunder'd
Theirs 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.

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.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in err,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd.
Plunged into 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.

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.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

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