SIR,—Being an old friend of the family, I have read

with great pleasure your review of the Life of Lord Gough in the Spectator of March 26th. I think the accompanying lines may interest your readers. They were written by a young officer, afterwards, I think, killed in the Mutiny. They were given to me many years ago by Lady Havelock, widow of General Sir Henry Havelock.—I am, Sir, &c., HONORIA T. GA.LWEY.

Forkhill House, Dundalk.

Where flourished once the great King Porus Lord Gough incensed the British ranks, And the Sikh artillery spoke in chorus.

The troops were tired, the Khalsa fired, And they're the lads that seldom bungle.

Quoth Gough at the noise: "Fix bayonets, boys, And drive those blackguards out of the jungle !"

Sabres drawn, bayonets fixed, Fight where fought brave Alexander.

Paddy Gough's a cross betwixt A bulldog and a salamander.

On every side our luck we tried, And found the showers of shot and shell come. Where'er we went to our sweet content The Sikhs they gave us a pleasant welcome. The guns went smack, the rocks went crack, The hills were black o'er Chillianwallah; But our General's Irish blood was up, And the battle-cry was " Faugh-a-ballagh !"

Sabres drawn, &c.

The bould Dragoons they dashed right thro'

And back again, 'twas mighty plucky.

But the —th Bengals disliked the balls, And each of them he cut his lucky !

But %would have done old Homer good

To see the charge of General Gilbe';t's.

Right and left, his way he cleft, And smashed their skulls like mouldy filberts.

Sabres drawn, &c.

General Dawes, he gained applause, His fighting lads were all in clover.

'Twas as good to be there as at Donnybrook Fair,

And no police when the fun was over.

At length the Sikhs they cut like bricks.

Sheer Singh sheered off, nor looked behind him ; And old Sheer Clutter did swear and sputter, But nobody cared at all to mind him.

Sabres drawn, &c.

And none shall scoff at brave old Gough. Oh! he's a chief of a soldier's choosing. We lads abroad will always applaud. Tho' the Times at home be always abusing. By Jumna's side their might he tried, And quelled the pride of the Khalsa gunners, And laid them flat at Guzerat With his English-Irish dose of stunners. Sabres drawn, &c.

Horatius Flacons sang—they say— About " quae loca fabuloslis Lambit Hydaspes," and his lay Our General's high renown discloses. Sure, with the most enchanting grace He goes against those Pun jaub caitiffs. Horace's river licks the place,

But Paddy Gough he licks the natives. Sabres drawn, &c.