Our woodland path has cross'd; And the straight causeway which we tread, Prolongs a line of dull arcade, Unvarying through the unvaried shade Until in distance lost. II. A brighter, livelier scene succeeds ;' And corn-fields, glance between; The peasant, at his labor blithe, Plies the hook'd staff and shorten'd scythe:2- Placed close within destruction's scope, Their ripening to have seen! Their architecture view; Yet one mile on, yon shatter'd hedge And sinks so gently on the dale, In easier curves can flow. Brief space from thence, the ground again Ascending slowly from the plain, Forms an opposing screen, Which, with its crest of upland ground, The soften'd vale between Slopes smooth and fair for courser's tread; Nor wood, nor tree, nor bush, are there, Nor fosse nor fence are found, Save where, from out her shatter'd bowers, Rise Hougomont's dismantled towers? IV. Now, see'st thou aught in this lone scene His childless sovereign. Heaven denied an heir, To the original chapel of the Marquis of Castanaza has now been added a building of considerable extent, the whole inte rior of which is filled with monumental inscriptions for the heroes who fell in the battle. The MS. has not this couplet. 6 "As a plain, Waterloo seems marked out for the scene of some great action, though this may be mere imagination. I have viewed with attention, those of Platea, Troy, Mantinea, Leuctra, Charonea, and Marathon; and the field around Mont St. Jean and Hougomont appears to want little but a better cause, and that indefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages throws around a consecrated spot, to vie in interest with any or all of these, except, perhaps, the last men tioned."-BYRON. On these broad spots of trampled ground, As Teniers loved to draw; And where the earth seems scorch'd by flame, V. So deem'st thou-so each mortal deems, Than that which peasant's scythe demands, With bayonet, blade, and spear. Fell thick as ripen'd grain; The corpses of the slain.' VI. Ay, look again-that line, so black Yon deep-graved ruts the artillery's track, So often lost and won; And close beside, the harden'd mud From yonder trenched mound? Death hover'd o'er the maddening rout, A summons of his own. Through rolling smoke the Demon's eye Distinguish every tone That fill'd the chorus of the fray- When breath was all but flown. VIII. Feast on, stern foe of mortal life, The deadly tug of war at length And cease when these are past. Ere he attain'd his height, And through the war-smoke, volumed high, Still peals that unremitted cry, Though now he stoops to night. For ten long hours of doubt and dread, Still down the slope they drew, Of skill and force was proved that day, These forerunners' of havoc near, Of rapine and of flame. What ghastly sights were thine to meet, Points to his prey in vain, X. On! On!" was still his stern exclaim; Loud answer'd their acclaiming shout, Came like a beam of light, In action prompt, in sentence brief"Soldiers, stand firm," exclaim'd the Chief, "England shall tell the fight!" XI. On came the whirlwind-like the last But fiercest sweep of tempest-blast MS.-"Harbingers." Within those walls there linger'd at that hour, "Others in wagons borne abroad I saw, Albeit recovering, still a mournful sight; Languid and helpless, some were stretch'd on straw, Some more advanced, sustain'd themselves upright, And with bold eye and careless front, methought, Seem'd to set wounds and death again at naught. What had it been, then, in the recent days Of that great triumph, when the open wound On came the whirlwind-steel-gleams broke Three hundred cannon-mouths roar'd loud, The cohorts' eagles flew. In one dark torrent, broad and strong, XII. But on the British heart were lost Then waked their fire at once! Then down went helm and lance, Wheel'd full against their staggering flanks, But not an instant would they bear thunders) 4 "The cuirassiers continued their dreadful onset, and rode up to the squares in the full confidence, apparently, of sweeping every thing before the impetuosity of their charge. Their onset and reception was like a furious ocean pouring itself against a chain of insulated rocks. The British square stood unmoved, and never gave fire until the cavalry were wuhin ten yards, when men rolled one way, horses galloped another, and the cuirassiers were in every instance driven back."-Life f Bonaparte, vol. ix. p. 12. 5 See Appendix, Note G. MS.-" Or can thy memory fail to quote, Heard to thy cost, the vengeful note Of Prussia's trumpet tone?" "We observe a certain degree of similitude in some pas Or dost thou turn thine eye Or dwells not in thy memory still In one dread effort more?— For empire enterprised— XIV. But if revolves thy fainter thought On safety-howsoever bought,— sages of Mr. Scott's present work, to the compositions of Lord Byron, and particularly his Lordship's Ode to Bonaparte; and we think that whoever peruses The Field of Waterloo,' with that Ode in his recollection, will be struck with this new resemblance. We allude principally to such passages as that which begins, The Roman lore thy leisure loved,' &c. and to such lines as, or, Now, seest thou aught in this loved scene, So deem'st thou-so each mortal deems, Of that which is, from that which seems ;' lines, by the way, of which we cannot express any very great admiration. This sort of influence, however, over even the principal writers of the day (whether they are conscious of the influence or not), is one of the surest tests of genius, and one of the proudest tributes which it receives."-Monthly Review. 8" When the engagement was ended, it evidently appeared with what undaunted spirit and resolution Catiline's army had been fired; for the body of every one was found on that very spot which, during the battle, he had occupied ; those only excepted who were forced from their posts by the Prætorian cohort; and even they, though they fell a little out of their ranks, were all wounded before. Catiline himself was found, far from his own men, amidst the dead bodies of the enemy, breathing a little, with an air of that fierceness still in his face which he had when alive. Finally, in all his army there was not so much as one free citizen taken prisoner, either in the engagement or in flight; for they spared their own lives as little as those of the enemy. The army of the republic obtained the victory, indeed, but it was neither a cheap nor a joyful one, for their bravest men were either slain in battle or dangerously wounded. As there were many, too, who went to view the Then turn thy fearful rein and ride, Though twice ten thousand men have died On this eventful day, To gild the military fame Which thou, for life, in traffic tame Wilt barter thus away. Shall future ages tell this tale Or is thy soul like mountain-tide, That, swell'd by winter storm and shower, Rolls down in turbulence of power, Whose channel shows display'd By which these wrecks were made! XV. Spur on thy way !-since now thine ear Has brook'd thy veterans' wish to hear, Who, as thy flight they eyed, Exclaim'd,-while tears of anguish came, Wrung forth by pride, and rage, and shame, "O, that he had but died!"1 But yet, to sum this hour of ill, Look, ere thou leavest the fatal hill, Back on yon broken ranks Upon whose wild confusion gleams When rivers break their banks, Down the red current hurl'dSo mingle banner, wain, and gun, Where the tumultuous flight rolls on Of warriors, who, when morn begun, Defied a banded world. feld, either out of curiosity or a desire of plunder, in turning over the dead bodies, some found a friend, some a relation, and some a gues; others there were likewise who discovered their enemes; so that, through the whole army, there appeared a mixture of gladness and sorrow, joy and mourning.". "-SALLUST. The MS. adds, "That pang survived, refuse not then To humble thee before the men, Late objects of thy scorn and hate, As usurers wont, who suck the all But yet, to sum," &c. XVI. List-frequent to the hurrying rout, When Beresina's icy flood Redden'd and thaw'd with flame and blood, Thine ear no yell of horror cleft And XVII. Since live thou wilt-refuse not now 2 MS.-"Where in one tide of terror run, 3 MS." So ominous a shriek was none, 4 For an account of the death of Poniatowski at Leipsic, sec Sir Walter Scott's Life of Bonaparte, vol. vii. p. 401. MS." Not such were heard, when, all bereft Ay, left by thee-found gallant grave." I who with faith unshaken from the first, Even when the tyrant seem'd to touch the skies, SOUTHEY. |