’Tis worth proclaiming. Yea, it seems to me This loyalty--to death--lies close akin To all the noblest human traits that be, Engendered whence we know not--yet within Choice spirits nobly gathered. Lo! we stand, Needs must, against the world, Yet war’s alarms Are nothing to our mightiest Motherland, While Nation circles Nation in her arms!
What are the bugles saying With a strain so long and so loud? They say that a soldier’s blanket Is meet for a soldier’s shroud! They say that their hill-tossed music, Blown forth of the living breath, Is full of the victor’s triumph And sad with the wail of death! _Bugles of Talavera!_
What are the bugles saying? They tell of the falling night, When a section of dog-tired English Drew close for a rear-guard fight; With an officer-boy to lead them, A lost and an outflanked squad, By the grace of a half-learned drill book, And a prayer to the unseen God! _Bugles of Talavera!_
What are the bugles saying Of the stand that was heel to heel? The click of the quick-pressed lever, The glint of the naked steel, The flame of the steady volley, The hope that was almost gone, As the leaping horde of the tribesmen Swept as a tide sweeps on! _Bugles of Talavera!_
What are the bugles saying? They say that the teeth are set, They say that the breath comes thicker, And the blood-red Night is wet; While the rough blunt speech of the English, The burr of the shires afar, Falls with a lone brave pathos ’Mid the hills of the Saransar! _Bugles of Talavera!_
What are the bugles saying? They say that the English there Feel a breath from their island meadows Like incense fill the air! They say that they stood for a moment With their dear ones by their side, For their spirits swept to the Homeland Before the English died! _Bugles of Talavera!_
And aye are the bugles saying, While the dust lies low i’ the dust, The strength of a strong man’s fighting, The crown of the soldier’s trust-- The wine of a full-brimmed battle, The peace of the quiet grave, And a wreath from the hands of glory Are the guerdon of the brave! _Bugles of Talavera!_
O gallant was our galley from her carven steering-wheel To her figurehead of silver and her beak of hammered steel; The leg-bar chafed the ankle and we gasped for cooler air, But no galley on the water with our galley could compare!