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-rm; Thy wood, dark Soignies, holds us now,
Where the tall beeches‘ glossy bough
For many a league around,
With birch and da rksome oak between,

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No opening glade dawns on our way,

No strearnlet, glancing to the ray,
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; In groups the scattering wood recedes, Hedge-rows, and huts, and sunny meads, And corn-fields glance between; The peasant, at his labour blithe , Plies the hook'd staff and shorten'd scythe :—(t) But when these cars were green, Placed close within destruction's scope, Full little was that rustic’s hope Their ripening to have seen! And, lo, a hamlet and its fane :Let not the gazer with disdain Their architecture view; For yonder rude ungraceful shrine, And disproportion'd spire, are thine, Immortal WATBRLOOI


Fear not the heat, though full and high
The sun has scoreh'd the autumn sky,
And scarce a forest straggler now
To shade us spreads a green-wood bough.
These fields have seen a hotter day
Than e’er was fired by sunny ray.
Yet one mile on—-yon shatter'd hedge
Crests the soft hill whose long smooth ridge

Looks on the field below,
And sinks so gently on the dale,
That not the folds of Beauty’s veil

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,
Shuts the horizon all around.

The soften’d vale between
Slopes smooth and fair for coursers‘ tread;
Not the most timid maid need dread
To give her snow-white palfrey head

On that wide stubble-ground.
Nor wood, nor tree, nor bush are there,
Her course to intercept or scare,

Nor fosse nor fence are found,
Save where, from out her shatter'd howers,
Rise Iiougoumont's dismantled towers.

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V. So deem'st thou—so each mortal deems, Of that which is from that which seems: But other harvest here Than that which peasanfs scythe demands, Was gather'd in by sterner hands, With bayonet, blade, and spear. No vulgar crop was theirs to reap, No stinted harvest thin and cheap! Heroes before each fatal sweep Fell thick as ripen'd grain; And ere the darkening of the day, Piled high as autumn shocks, there lay The ghastly harvest of the fray, The corpses of the slain.

VI. Ay, look again—-that line, so black And trampled, marks the bivouack; Yon deep-graved ruts, the artillery's track, So often lost and won; And close beside, the harden'd mud Still shows where, fetlock-deep in blood, The fierce dragoon, through battle’s flood, Dash’d the hot war-horse on. These spots of excavation tell The ravage of the bursting shell-— And feel‘st thou not the tainted steam, That reeks against the sultry beam, From yonder trenched mound? The pestilential fumes declare That Carnage has replenish'd there Her garner-house profound.

VII. Far other harvest-home and feast, Than claims the boor from scythe released, On these scorch'd fields were known! Death hover’d o'er the maddening rout, And, in the thrilling battle-shout, Sent for the bloody banquet out A summons of his own. Through rolling smoke the demon‘s eye Could well each destined guest espy, Well could his ear in ecstacy Distinguish every tone That fill'd the chorus of the frayFrom cannon-roar and trumpel—bray, From charging squadrons‘ wild hurra, From the wild clang that mark'd their way,-—Down to the dying groan, And the last sob of life's decay When breath was all but flown.

VIII. Feast on, stern foe of mortal life, Feast on !—but think not that a strife, With such promiscuous carnage rife, Protracted space may last; The deadly tug of war 2! length Must limits find in human strength, And cease when these are pass'd.

Vain hope!-that mom's derclonded sun
Heard the wild shout of fight begun
Ere he attain'd his height,
And through the war-smoke volnmed high
Still peals that unremitted cry,
Though now he stoops to night.
For ten long hours of doubt and dread,
Fresh sncconrs from the extended head
Of either hill the contest fed;
Still down the slope they drew,
The charge of columns paused not,
Nor ceased the storm of shell and shot;
For all that war could do,
Of skill and force, was proved that day,
And tnrn'd not yet the doubtful fray
On bloody Waterloo.

‘ IX.

Pale Brussels! then what thoughts were thine, (2)
Wlien ceaseless from the distant line

Continued thunders came!
Each bnrgher held his breath to hear
These forerunners of havoc near,

Of rapine and of flame.
What ghastly sights were thine to meet,
When rolling through thy stately street,
The wounded show'd their mangled plight
In token of the unfinislfd fight,
And from each anguish-laden wain
The blood-drops laid thy dust like rain!
How often in the distant drum
Heard'st thou the fell Invader come,
While Ruin, shouting to his band,
Shook high her torch and gory brand!-
Cheer thee, fair city! From you stand,
Impatient, still his outstretoh'd hand

Points to his prey in vain,
While maddening in his eager mood,
And all nnwont to be withstood,

He fires the fight again.


It On! on !n was still his stern exclaim,

u Confront the battery's Jaws of flame! Bush on the lcvell'd gun! (3)

My steel-clad cuirassiers, advance!

Each Hulan forward with his lance,

My Guarcl—-my chosen-—charge for France, France and Napoleon!»

Loud answer’d their acclaiming shout,

Greeting the mandate which sent out

Their bravest and their best to dare

The fate their leader shnnn'd to share.

But He, his country's sword and shield,

Still in the battle-front reveal'd,

Where danger fiercest swept the field,
Came like a beam of light,

In action prompt, in sentence brief

Lt Soldiers, stand firm!» e1tclairn'd the chief, t( England shall tell the fight!» (5)

XI. On came the whirlwind—like the last But fiercest sweep of tempest hlast—On came the whirlwind—steel-gleams broke Like lightning through the rolling smoke.

The war was waked anew; Three hundred cannon-mouths mid loud, And from their throats, with flash and cloud, Their showers of iron threw. / Beneath their fire, in full career, Ruslfd on the pondcrous 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 harhinger‘d by fierce acclaim, That from the shroud of smoke and flame, Peal'd wildly the imperial name.


But on the British heart were lost

The terrors of the charging host;

For not an eye the storm that view’d
Changed its proud glance of fortitude,
Nor was one forward footstep staid,
As dropp'd the dying and the dead.
Fast as their ranks the thunders tear,
Fast they renew’d each serried square;
And on the wounded and the slain
Closed their diminish'd files again,
Till from their line scarce spears’ length three,
Emerging from the smoke they see
Helmet and plume and panoply,—

Then waked their fire at once!

Each musketeer’s revolving knell,
As fast, as regularly fell,

As when they practise to display
Their discipline on fcstal day.

Then down went helm and lance,
Down were the eagle banners sent,
Down reeling steeds and riders went,
Corslets were pierced, and pennons rent;

And to augment the fray,

Wheel‘d full against their staggering flanks,
The English h0rscmen's foaming ranks
Forced their resistless way.

Then to the musket-knell succeeds

The clash of swords— the neigh of steeds-
As plies the smith his clanging trade,
Against the cuirass rang the blade; (6)
And while amid their close array

The well-served cannon rent their way,
And while amid their scatter'd band

Raged the fierce rider's bloody brand,
Recoil’d in common rout and fear,

Lancer and guard and cnirassier,

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