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On these broad spots of trampled ground,
As Teniers loved to draw ;
Around her fire of straw."
Death hover'd o'er the maddening rout,
A summons of his own.
Distinguish every tone
Down to the dying groan, And the last sob of life's decay,
When breath was all but flown.
V. So deem'st thou-s0 each mortal deems, Of that which is from that which seems :
But other harvest here, Than that which peasant's scythe demands, Was gather'd in by sterner hands,
With bayonet, blade, and spear.
Fell thick as ripen'd grain ;
The corpses of the slain.
VI. Ay, look again—that line, so black And trampled, marks the bivouac, Yon deep-graved ruts the artillery's track,
So often lost and won;
Dash'd the hot war-horse on,
From yonder trenched mound?
Her garner-house profound.
Protracted space may last ;
And cease when these are past. Vain hope !—that morn's o'erelouded sun Heard the wild shout of fight begun
Ere he attain'd his height, And through the war-smoke, volumed high, Still peals that unremitted cry,
Though now he stoops to night.
Still down the slope they drew,
For all that war could do
On bloody Waterloo.
VII. Far other harvest-home and feast, Than claims the boor from scythe released,
On these scorch'd fields were known;
Continued thunders came !
To mark how gentle Nature still pursued Her quiet course, as if she took no care For what her noblest work had suffer'd there.
And friend and foe, within the general tomb.
Equal had been their lot; one fatal day For all, . . one labor, ., and one place of rest They found within their common parent's breast.
“ The pears had ripen'd on the garden wall;
Those leaves which on the autumnal earth were spread,
Had only in their natural season shed;
SOUTHEY. 1 " Earth had received into her silent womb
Her slaughter'd creatures; horse and man they lay,
“ The passing seasons had not yet effaced
The stamp of numerous hoofs impress'd by force
Yet Nature everywhere resumed her course ;
SOUTHET. 9 See Appendix, Note B.
These forerunners' of havoc near,
Of rapine and of flame.
Points to his prey in vain,
He fires the fight again.
On came the whirlwind-steel-gleams broke Like lightning through the rolling smoke;.
The war was waked anew, Three hundred cannon-mouths roar'd loud, And from their throats, with flash and cloud,
Their showers of iron threw. Beneath their fire, in full career, Rush'd on the ponderous cuirassier, The lancer couch'd his ruthless spear, And hurrying as to havoc near,
The cohorts' eagles flew. In one dark torrent, broad and strong, The advancing onset roll'd along, Forth harbinger'd by fierce acclaim, That, from the shroud of smoke and flame, Peald wildly the imperial name.
X. " On! On!" was still his stern exclaim; Confront the battery's jaws of flame!
Rush on the levell’d gun!
France and Napoleon !"
Came like a beam of light, In action prompt, in sentence brief, 'Soldiers, stand firm,” exclaim'd the Chief,
“ England shall tell the fight!"?
Then waked their fire at once!
Then down went helm and lance,
And, to augment the fray,
XI. On came the whirlwind-like the last But fiercest sweep of tempest-blast
1 MS.--" Harbingers."
Many a brave soldier on the bed of pain,
To see his country and his friends again;
Whose life yet waver'd in the scales of fate. "Others in wagons borne abroad I saw,
Albeit recovering, still a mournful sight;
Some more advanced, sustain'd themselves upright,
Was festering, and along the crowded ways,
Hour after hour was heard the incessant sound
Convey'd their living agonizing load !
Grew sick to see their sufferings ; and the thought Still comes with horror to the shuddering mind
of those sad days, when Belgian ears were taught The British soldier's cry,
half prayer, Breathed when his pain is more than he can bear."
SOUTHEY. 6 MS.
- his stern exclaim ;
Confront them and they're won.'” See Appendix, Note C. 6 Ibid. Note D. 7 Ibid. Note E. 8 MS.-"Nor was one forward footstep stopp'd,
Though close beside a comrade dropp'd."
" What had it been, then, in the recent days Of that great triumph, when the open wound
The English horsemen's foaming ranks
Forced their resistless way.
Or dost thou turn thine eye
And other standards fly -
Is Blucher yet unknown?
In Prussia's trumpet tone –
In one dread effort more ?-
That Chieftain, who, of yore,
For empire enterprised-
Abhorr'd—but not despised."
The British host had stood
They were their ocean's flood.-
i See Appendix, Note F.
sages of Mr. Scott's present work, to the compositions of Lord 2“I heard the broadswords' deadly clang,
Byron, and particularly his Lordship's Ode to Bonaparte ; and As if an hundred anvils rang!" Lady of the Lake. we think that whoever perases · The Field of Waterloo,' with 3 MS.-" Beneath that storm, in full career,
that Ode in his recollection, will be struck with this new me Rush'd on the ponderous cuirassier,
semblance. We allude principally to such passages as that The lancer came with levellid
spear, couch'd his fatal
• The Roman lore thy leisure loved,' &c.
and to such lines as,
• Now, seest thou aught in this loved scene,
Can tell of that wbich late hath been ?
* So deem'st thon—so each mortal deems,
of that which is, from that which seems ;' Not even their chosen brook to feel
lines, by the way, of which we cannot express any very great The British shock of levell'd steel;
admiration. This sort of influence, however, over even the Enough that through their close array
principal writers of the day (whether they are conscious of the The well-plied cannon tore their way;
influence or not), is one of the surest tests of genius, and one Enough that 'mid their broken band
of the proudest tributes which it receives.''- Monthly Rerica. The horsemen plied the bloody brand,
8" When the engagement was ended, it evidently appeared Recoil'd," &c.
with what andaunted spirit and resolution Catiline's army had 4 "The cuirassiers continued their dreadful onset, and rode been fired ; for the body of every one was found on that very up to the squares in the full confidence, apparently, of sweep- spot which, during the battle, he had occupied ; those only es. ing every thing before the impetuosity of their charge. Their cepted who were forced from their posts by the Prætorian coonset and reception was like a furious ocean pouring itself hort; and even they, though they sell a little ont of their against a chain of insulated rocks. The British square stood ranks, were all wounded before. Catiline himself was found, unmoved, and never gave fire until the cavalry were within far from his own men, amidst the dead bodies of the enemy, ten yards, when men rolled one way, borses galloped another, breathing a little, with an air of that fierceness still in his face and the cuirassiers were in every instance driven back."'-Life which he had when alive. Finally, in all his army there was of Bonaparté, vol. ix. p. 12.
not so much as one free citizen taken prisoner, either in the en5 See Appendix, Note G.
gagement or in flight; for they spared their own lives as little 6 MS.-“ Or can thy memory fail to quote,
as those of the enemy. The army of the republic obtained the Heard to thy cost, the vengeful note
victory, indeed, but it was neither a cheap nor a joyful one, for Of Prussia's trumpet tone ?"
their bravest men were either slain in battle or dangerously 7" We observe a certain degree of similitude in some pas- wounded. As there were many, too, who went to view the
Then turn thy fearful rein and ride,
On this eventful day,
Wilt barter thus away.
Or is thy soul like mountain-tide,
A torrent fierce and wide;
Whose channel shows display'd
By which these wrecks were made!
So fell a shriek was none,
The children of the Don.
Have felt the final stroke;
The last dread seal is broke.
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
“O, that he had but died !"! 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 The moon, as on the troubled streams
When rivers break their banks, And, to the ruin'd peasant's eye, Objects half seen roll swiftly by,
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.
XVII. Since live thou wilt-refuse not now Before these demagogues to bow, Late objects of thy scorn and hate, Who shall thy once imperial fate Make wordy theme of vain debate.Or shall we say, thou stoop'st less low In seeking refuge from the foe, Against whose heart, in prosperous life, Thine hand hath ever held the knife ?
Such homage hath been paid
If it were freely made.
field, 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 guest ; others there were likewise who discovered their enemies ; so that, through the whole army, there appeared a mixture of gladness and sorrow, joy and mourning."-SALLUST. 1 The MS, adds,
“ That pang survived, refuse not then
To humble thee before the men,
And chaffer for thy crown;
His latest hope has flown.
2 MS.--"Where in one tide of terror run,
The warriors that, when morn begun." 3 MS.-"So ominous a shriek was none,
Not even when Beresina's flood
Was thawed by streams of tepid blood." 4 For an account of the death of Poniatowski at Leipsic, see Sir Walter Scott's Life of Bonaparte, vol. vii. p. 401. 5 MS.-“ Not such were heard, when, all bereft
Of aid, the valiant Polack left
Ay, left by thee-found gallant grave."
Even when the tyrant seem'd to touch the skies,
And for a fall conspicuous as his rise,
And, such was rightful Heaven's decree, Ne'er sheathed unless with victory!"
Though dear experience bid us end,
That “yet imperial hope ;"2
We yield thee means or scope.
No islet calls thee lord,
From which we wrench'd the sword.
Than yet thy life has known;
A triumph all thine own. Such waits thee when thou shalt control Those passions wild, that stubborn soul,
That marr'd thy prosperous scene : Hear this—from no unmoved heart, Which sighs, comparing what THOU ART
With what thou MIGHT'ST HAVE BEEN !
XX. Look forth, once more, with soften'd heart, Ere from the field of fame we part;' Triumph and Sorrow border near, And joy oft melts into a tear. Alas! what links of love that morn Has War's rude hand asunder torn! For ne'er was field so sternly fought, And ne'er was conquest dearer bought. Here piled in common slaughter sleep Those whom affection long shall weep: Here rests the sire, that ne'er shall strain His orphans to his heart again; The son, whom, on his native shore, The parent's voice shall bless no more ; The bridegroom, who has hardly press'd His blushing consort to his breast; The husband, whom through many a year Long love and mutual faith endear. Thou canst not name one tender tie, But here dissolved its relics lie! O! when thou see'st some mourner's veil Shroud her thin form and visage pale, Or mark'st the Mątron's bursting tears Stream when the stricken drum she hears; Or see'st how manlier grief, suppress’d, Is laboring in a father's breast, With no enquiry vain pursue The cause, but think on Waterloo !
XIX. Thou, too, whose deeds of fame renew'd Bankrupt a nation's gratitude, To thine own noble heart must owe More than the meed she can bestow. For not a people's just acclaim, Not the full hail of Europe's fame, Thy Prince's smiles, thy State's decree, The ducal rank, the garter'd knee, Not these such pure delight afford As that, when hanging up thy sword, Well may'st thou think, “ This honest steel Was ever drawn for public weal;
XXI. Period of honor as of woes, What bright careers 'twas thine to close ! Mark'd on thy roll of blood what names To Briton's memory, and to Fame's, Laid there their last immortal claims ! Thou saw'st in seas of gore expire Redoubted Picton's soul of fireSaw'st in the mingled carnage lie All that of Ponsonby could die DE LANCEY change Love's bridal-wreath,
** but do not hide
Which erst yon gifted bard espied.” 2 * The Desolater desolate!
The Victor overthrown !
A Suppliant for bis own!
Or dread of death alone ?
Byron's Ode to Napoleon. 3"« 'Tis done—but yesterday a King!
And arm'd with Kings to strive
And now thou art a nameless thing;
So abject-yet alive!
And can he thus survive ?
Byron's Ode to Napoleon 4" We left the field of battle in such mood
As human hearts from thence should bear away; And, musing thus, our purposed route pursued,
Which still through scenes of recent bloodshed lay Where Prussia late, with strong and stern delight, Hung on her fated foes to persecute their flight."