The Charge of the Light Brigade

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I love Tennyson :) This poem is not a favourite of mine, but I had a young friend who completely loved it, and he grew up to become a soldier - so I wonder if this gave him the inspiration for that, or if it was in him already... Anyway, I'm creating blogs about narrative verse, and this is another really famous piece of literature I want to share with you.

The poem is an epic story about one of the most tragic, and heroic, events in British military history - an ill-fated charge during the Battle of Balaclava in 1854 during the Crimean War. Tennyson describes the chaotic intensity of the battle and highlights the soldiers’ bravery, discipline and sense of duty to one's country - Victorian values that are both global and timeless. The men know it's a disaster but out of loyalty and honour they hasten on.

The repeated lines like “Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,” mimic the rhythm of the galloping horses. The soldiers hurtle forwards, relentlessly, towards their doom - what incredible imagery; what a sense of urgency - Tennyson's skill is masterful.

Instead of focusing on what is obviously a military failure, the poem highlights the nobility of sacrifice. It celebrates those who sacrificed their lives while acknowledging the futility of war.

War is horrible, I don't really like to dwell on it, but this poem is quite awesome and I think you'll enjoy reading it.

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 dismayed?

Not though the soldier knew

Someone had blundered.

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.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabres bare,

Flashed as they turned in air

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wondered.

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right through the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the sabre stroke

Shattered and sundered.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell.

They that had fought so well

Came through 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 wondered.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!