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Juan, by some strange chance, which oft | So Juan, following honour and his nose, Rush'd where the thickest fire announced inost foes.

divides
Warrior from warrior in their grim career,
Like chastest wives from constant husbands'
sides

Just at the close of the first bridal year,
By one of those odd turns of Fortune's tides,
Was on a sudden rather puzzled here,
When, after a good deal of heavy firing,
He found himself alone,and friends retiring.

might

He knew not where he was,nor greatly cared,
For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins
Fill'd as with lightning-for his Spirit
shared

The hour, as is the case with lively brains;
And, where the hottest fire was seen and
heard,

I don't know how the thing occurr'd—it And the loud cannon peal'd his hoarsest
strains,
Be that the greater part were kill'd or He rush'd, while earth and air were sadly
wounded,
shaken

And that the rest had faced unto the right By thy humane discovery, Friar Bacon!
About; a circumstance which has confounded
Caesar himself, who, in the very sight
Of his whole army, which so much abounded
h courage, was obliged to snatch a shield
And rally back his Romans to the field.

Juan, who had no shield to snatch, and was
No Caesar, but a fine young lad, who fought
He knew not why, arriving at this pass,
Stopp'd for a minute, as perhaps he ought
For a much longer time; then, like an ass-
(Start not, kind reader; since great Homer
thought

This simile enough for Ajax, Juan
Perhaps may find it better than a new one)-

Then, like an ass, he went upon his way,
And what was stranger, never look'd behind;
But seeing, flashing forward, like the day
Over the hills, a fire enough to blind
Those who dislike to look upon a fray,
He stumbled on, to try if he could find
A path to add his own slight arm and forces
To corps, the greater part of which were

corses.

Perceiving then no more the commandant
Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which

had

Quite disappear'd—the Gods know how! (I

can't

Account for every thing which may look bad
In history; but we at least may grant
was not marvellous that a mere lad,
In search of glory, should look on before,
Sor care a pinch of snuff about his corps ;)—

Perceiving nor commander nor commanded,
And left at large, like a young heir, to make
His way to where he knew not-single
handed;

As travellers follow over bog and brake
An ignis fatuus," or as sailors stranded
tato the nearest hut themselves betake,

And, as he rush'd along, it came to pass he
Fell in with what was late the second
column,

Under the orders of the General Lascy,
But now reduced, as is a bulky volume,
Into an elegant extract (much less massy)
Of heroism, and took his place with solemn
Air 'midst the rest, who kept their valiant
faces

And levell❜d weapons still against the glacis.

Just at this crisis up came Johnson too,
Who had "retreated,” as the phrase is when
Men run away much rather than go through
Destruction's jaws into the Devil's den;
But Johnson was a clever fellow, who
Knew when and how "to cut and come again."
And never ran away, except when running
Was nothing but a valourous kind of
cunning.

And so, when all his corps were dead or dying,
Except Don Juan,-a mere novice, whose
More virgin valour never dream'd of flying,
From ignorance of danger, which indues
Its votaries, like Innocence relying
On its own strength, with careless nerves
and thews,-
Johnson retired a little, just to rally
Those who catch cold in "shadows of death's
valley."

And there, a little shelter'd from the shot,
Which rain'd from bastion, battery, parapet,
Rampart, wall, casement, house-for there
was not
In this extensive city, sore beset
By Christian soldiery, a single spot
Which did not combat like the devil, as.
yet,-
He found a number of chasseurs, all
scatter'd
By the resistance of the chase they batter'd.

And these he call'd on; and, what's strange, | Or a good boxer, into a sad pickle,

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Putting the very bravest, who were knock'd Upon the head, before their guns were cock'd.

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Had not come up in time to cast an awe
lato the hearts of those who fought till now
As tigers combat with an empty craw,
The Duke of Wellington had ceased to show
His orders, also to receive his pensions,
Which are the heaviest that our history
mentions.

But never mind; -"God save the king!" and kings!

Humanity must yield to steel and flame:
And he, whose very body was all mind,—
Flung here by fate or circumstance which

tame

The loftiest, --hurried by the time and place,
Dash'd on like a spurr'd blood-horse in a race.

So was his blood stirr'd while he found resistance, For if he don't, I doubt if men will longer-Or double post and rail, where the existence As is the hunter's at the five-bar gate, Of Britain's youth depends upon their weight,

I think I hear a little bird, who sings
The people by and bye will be the stronger:
The veriest jade will wince whose harness
wrings

So much into the raw as quite to wrong her
Beyond the rules of posting,-and the mob
At last fall sick of imitating Job:

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The lightest being the safest: at a distance
Blood, until heated—and even there his own
He hated cruelty, as all men hate
At times would curdle o'er some heavy groan.

The General Lascy, who had been hard
Seeing arrive an aid so opportune
prest,
Who came as if just dropp'd down from
As were some hundred youngsters all abreast,
the moon,

His thanks, and hopes to take the city soon,
To Juan, who was nearest him, address'd
(As Pistol calls it), but a young Livonian.
Not reckoning him to be a "base Bezonian"

Juan, to whom he spoke in German, knew
As much of German as of Sanscrit, and
In answer made an inclination to

The General who held him in command;
For,seeing one with ribbons,black and blue,
Stars, medals, and a bloody sword in hand,
Addressing him in tones which seem'd to
thank,
He recognized an officer of rank.

Short speeches pass between two men who
speak
No common language; and besides, in time
Of war and taking towns, when many a
shriek

Rings o'er the dialogue, and many a crime
Is perpetrated ere a word can break
Upon the ear, and sounds of horror chime
In like church-bells, with sigh,howl, groan,
yell, prayer,
There cannot be much conversation there.

And therefore all we have related in
Two long octaves, pass'd in a little minute;

But in the same small minute, every sin
Contrived to get itself comprised within it.
Grew dumb, for you might almost hear a
The very cannon, deafen'd by the din,

As soon as thunder, 'midst the general noise
linnet,
Of human Nature's agonizing voice!

The town was enter'd. Oh Eternity!-
"God made the country, and man made
the town,"

So Cowper says - and I begin to be
Of his opinion, when I see cast down
Rome, Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh--
All walls men know, and many never known;
And, pondering on the present and the past,
To deem the woods shall be our home at last.

Of all men, saving Sylla the Man-slayer,
Who passes for in life and death most lucky,
Of the great names which in our faces stare,
The General Boon, back-woodsman of
Kentucky,

Was happiest amongst mortals any where;
For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he
Enjoy'd the lonely, vigorous, harmless days
Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze.

Crime came not near him she is not the child
Of Solitude;Health shrank not from him for
Her home is in the rarely-trodden wild,
Where if men seek her not, and death be more
Their choice than life, forgive them, as

beguiled

The free-born forest found and kept them free,

And fresh as is a torrent or a tree.

And tall and strong and swift of foot were
they,
Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions,
Because their thoughts had never been the
prey

Of care or gain: the green woods were their
portions;
No sinking spirits told them they grew grey;
No fashion made them apes of her distortions;
Simple they were, not savage; and their
rifles,

Though very true, were not yet used for
trifles.

Motion was in their days, rest in their
slumbers,

And cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil;
Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers;
Corruption could not make their hearts her
soil;

The lust which stings, the splendour which
encumbers,

By habit to what their own hearts abhor-With the free foresters divide no spoil; In cities caged. The present case in point I Serene, not sullen, were the solitudes Cite is, that Boon lived hunting up to ninety; Of this unsighing people of the woods.

And, what's still stranger, left behind a

name,

So much for Nature:-by way of variety,
Now back to thy great joys, Civilization!
And the sweet consequence of large society,
War, Pestilence, the despot's desolation,

For which men vainly decimate the throng,
Not only famous, but of that good fame
Without which Glory's but a tavern-song-The kingly scourge, the lust of notoriety,
Simple, serene, the antipodes of shame, The millions slain by soldiers for their
Which hate nor envy e'er could tinge with
ration,
The scenes like Catherine's boudoir at three
score,

wrong;

An active hermit, even in age the child
Of Nature, or the Man of Ross run wild. With Ismail's storm to soften it the more.

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Where there were fewer houses and more With distant shrieks were heard Heaven

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