6.  We are not deceived.  There is no delusion here.  No age will come, in which the American Revolution will appear less than it is—­one of the greatest events in human history.  No age will come, in which in it will cease to be seen and felt, on either continent, that a mighty step, a great advance, not only in American affairs, but in human affairs, was made on the 4th of July, 1776.  And no age will come, we trust, so ignorant, or so unjust, as not to see and acknowledge the efficient agency of these we now honor, in producing that momentous event.

Daniel Webster.

The defence of Lucknow.

I.

Banner of England, not for a season, O banner of
     Britain, hast thou
Floated in conquering battle or flapt to the battle cry! 
Never with mightier glory than when we had reared
     thee on high,
Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege at Lucknow—­
Shot through the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised thee anew,
And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew.

II.

Frail were the works that defended the hold that we
  held with our lives—­
Women and children among us—­God help them, our
  children and wives! 
Hold it we might—­and for fifteen days or for twenty at most. 
“Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his
  post!”
Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Lawrence the
  best of the brave;
Cold were his brows when we kissed him—­we laid
  him that night in his grave.

III.

“Every man die at his post!” and there hailed on our
   houses and halls
Death from their rifle bullets, and death from their cannon
   balls,
Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight
   barricade,
Death while we stood with the musket, and death while
   we stoopt to the spade,
Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for
  often there fell,
Striking the hospital wall, crashing through it, their
  shot and their shell,

IV.

Death—­for their spies were among us, their marksman
  were told of our best,
So that the brute bullet broke through the brain that
  could think for the rest;
Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would
  rain at our feet—­
Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels that girdled
  us round;
Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth
  of a street,
Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace—­
  and death in the ground!

V.