And to guard the British traders, gallant men and merry younkers,
  In their coats of blue and scarlet, still are stationed at the
     post,
Whilst the migratory natives, who are known as “Tillie-bunkas,”
  Grub up and down for ground-nuts and chaffer on the coast.

Furthermore, to help the trader in his laudable vocation,
  We have heaps of little treaties with a host of little kings,
And, at times, the coloured caitiffs in their wild inebriation,
  Gather round us, little hornets, with uncomfortable stings.

To my tale:—­The King of Barra had been getting rather “sarsy,”
  In fact, for such an insect, he was coming it too strong,
So we sent a small detachment—­it was led by Colonel D’Arcy—­
  To drive him from his capital of Tubabecolong!

Now on due investigation, when his land they had invaded,
  They learnt from information which was brought them by the guides
That the worthy King of Barra had completely barracaded
  The spacious mud-construction where his majesty resides.

“At it, boys!” said Colonel D’Arcy, and himself was first to enter,
  And his fellows tried to follow with the customary cheers;
Through the town he dashed impatient, but had scarcely reached the
     centre
  Ere he found the task before him was a task for pioneers.

For so strongly and so stoutly all the gates were palisaded,
  The supports could never enter if he did not clear a way:—­
But Sammy Hodge, perceiving how the foe might be “persuaded,”
  Had certain special talents which he hastened to display.

Whilst the bullets, then, were flying, and the bayonets were glancing
  Whilst the whole affair in fury rather heightened than relaxed,
With axe in hand, and silently, our pioneer advancing
SMOTE THE GATE; AND BADE IT OPEN; AND IT DID—­AS IT WAS AXED!

L’ENVOI.

Just a word of explanation, it may save us from a quarrel,
  I have really no intention—­’twould be shameful if I had,
Of preaching you a blatant, democratic kind of moral;
  For the “swell, you know,” the D’Arcy, fought as bravely as the
     “cad!”

Yet I own that sometimes thinking how a courteous decoration
  May be won by shabby service or disreputable dodge,
I regard with more than pleasure—­with a sense of consolation—­
  The Victoria Cross “For Valour” on the breast of Sammy Hodge!

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

(October 25, 1857.)

BY R.T.S.  LOWELL.

    Oh! that last day in Lucknow fort! 
      We knew that it was the last: 
    That the enemy’s mines had crept surely in,
      And the end was coming fast.

    To yield to that foe meant worse than death;
      And the men and we all work’d on: 
    It was one day more, of smoke and roar,
      And then it would all be done.