  Hot was the battle, and bloody the fight, Cool was the evening and peaceful the night. From the camp in the wood where the valley lies lone, Three times the signalling trumpet has blown. Loud and ringing its clear notes fall, Over wood and field they hear the “Recall.” In troops and by knots, by three and by two, Back they straggle, the valiant few. Ah! not all are returning back; Full many a man doth the regiment lack. They were there in their places at reveillÉ, At night they lie cold, and pallid to see. And horses whose saddles are empty to-night Are galloping wildly to left and to right. But the bray of the trumpet that sounds the recall, For the third time summoneth one and all. See the black stallion is pricking his ear, And neighs at the sound he is wont to hear. Look, how the brown ranges up to his side, It was ever his place when the trumpet cried. And next the blood-flecked dapple-gray Limps up to his place in the ranks to-day. By troops, by knots, by three and by two, Come riderless horses, to signal true. For horses and riders both know the “Recall,” And the trumpet-blast it is summoning all. And over three hundred came back that day, With empty saddles from that fierce fray. Over three hundred! How bloody the fight That emptied so many saddles that night! Over three hundred! The struggle was sore: One man had fallen out of every four. Over three hundred! When trumpets blew, The riderless steeds to the flag were true. When ye talk of Gravelotte’s noble dead, Praise the horses that answered in their stead. —Gerok. From “German Ballads,” translated by Elizabeth Craigmyle, by permission of Walter Scott & Co. Limited. |
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