This page has been validated.
"PRIEZ POUR ELLE"
AN INCIDENT OF THE INDIAN MUTINY
In the old tower they stand at bay,
Where the Moslem fought of old;
True to their race, in that sad day
Their lives are dearly sold.
They are but three; a woman fair,
A boy of fearless brow,
He, whom she vowed to love is there—
God help her! then and now.
With fiercer leaguer never did
Those rugged stones resound,
As the swarthy yelling masses swayed
The time-worn keep around.
Our death-doomed brothers fired fast,
Our sister loaded well;
With each rifle-crack a spirit passed;
By scores the rebels fell.
