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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 :

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Plunged in the battery-smoke, Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian

Reeld 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.

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