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9. " They shall run to and fro in the citie: they shall run upon the wall, they shall climbe up upon the houses: they shall enter in at the windows like a

thief.

10. « The earth shall quake before them, the heavens shall tremble, the sunne and the moon shall be dark, and the starres shall withdraw their shining.»> In verse 20th also, which announces the retreat of the northern army, described in such dreadful colours, into a «land barren and desolate,» and the dishonour with which God afflicted them for having magnified themselves to do great things,» there are particulars not inapplicable to the retreat of Masséna; Divine Providence having, in all ages, attached disgrace as the natural punishment of cruelty and presumption.

Note 15. Conclusion. Stanza vii.

The rudest sentinel, in Britain born,

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dulged themselves in parading their bands of music,
and actually performed « God save the King.» Their
minstrelsy was however deranged by the undesired ac-
companiment of the British horse-artillery, on whose
part in the concert they had not calculated. The sur-
prise was sudden, and the rout complete; for the artil-
lery and cavalry did execution upon them for about
four miles, pursuing at the gallop as often as they got
beyond the range of the guns.

Note 17. Conclusion. Stanza x.
Vainly thy squadrons hide Assuava's plain,
And front the flying thunders as they roar,

With frantic charge and tenfold odds, in vain!

In the severe action of Fuentes d'Honoro, upon 5th May, 1811, the grand mass of the French cavalry attacked the right of the British position, covered by two guns of the horse-artillery, and two squadrons of cavalry. After suffering considerably from the fire of Gave his poor crust to feed some wretch forlorn. the guns, which annoyed them in every attempt at Even the unexampled gallantry of the British army formation, the enemy turned their wrath entirely toin the campaign of 1810-11, although they never wards them, distributed brandy among their troopers, fought but to conquer, will do them less honour in his- and advanced to carry the field-pieces with the despetory than their humanity, attentive to soften to the ut-ration of drunken fury. They were in no ways checked most of their power the horrors which war, in its mildest aspect, must always inflict upon the defenceless inhabitants of the country in which it is waged, and which, on this occasion, were tenfold augmented by the barbarous cruelties of the French. Soupkitchens were established by subscription among the officers, wherever the troops were quartered for any length of time. The commissaries contributed the heads, feet, etc. of the cattle slaughtered for the soldiery; rice, vegetables, and bread, where it could be had, were purchased by the officers. Fifty or sixty starving peasants were daily fed at one of these regimental establishments, and carried home the relics to their famished households. The emaciated wretches, who could not crawl from weakness, were speedily employed in pruning their vines. While pursuing Masséna, the soldiers evinced the same spirit of humanity; and, in many instances, when reduced themselves to short allowance, from having out-marched their supplies, they shared their pittance with the starving inhabitants who had ventured back to view the ruins of their habitations, burnt by the retreating enemy, and to bury the bodies of their relations whom they had butchered.Is it possible to know such facts without feeling a sort of confidence, that those who so well deserve victory are most likely to attain it?-It is not the least of Lord Wellington's military merits, that the slightest disposition towards marauding meets immediate punishment. Independently of all moral obligation, the army which is most orderly in a friendly country, has always proved most formidable to an armed enemy.

Note 16. Conclusion. Stanza viii.

Vain-glorious fugitive!"

by the heavy loss which they sustained in this daring attempt, but closed, and fairly mingled with the British cavalry, to whom they bore the proportion of ten to one. Captain Ramsay (let me be permitted to name a gallant countryman), who commanded the two guns, dismissed them at the gallop, and, putting himself at the head of the mounted artillerymen, ordered them to fall upon the French, sabre in hand. This very unexpected conversion of artillerymen into dragoons contributed greatly to the defeat of the enemy, already disconcerted by the reception they had met from the two British squadrons; and the appearance of some small reinforcements, notwithstanding the immense disproportion of force, put them to absolute rout. A colonel or major of their cavalry, and many prisoners (almost all intoxicated), remained in our possession. Those who consider for a moment the difference of the services, and how much an artilleryman is necessarily and naturally led to identify his own safety and utility with abiding by the tremendous implement of war, to the exercise of which he is chiefly, if not exclusively, trained, will know how to estimate the presence of mind which commanded so bold a manoeuvre, and the steadiness and confidence with which it was executed.

Note 18. Conclusion. Stanza x.

And what avails thee that, for CAMERON slain,

Wild from his plaided ranks the yell was given. during the desperate contest in the streets of the village The gallant Colonel Cameron was wounded mortally called Fuentes d'Honoro. He fell at the head of his native Highlanders, the 71st and 79th, who raised a dreadful shriek of grief and rage. They charged, with irresistible fury, the finest body of French grenaThe French conducted this memorable retreat with diers ever seen, being a part of Buonaparte's selected much of the fanfarronade proper to their country, by guard. The officer who led the French, a man remarkwhich they attempt to impose upon others, and per- able for stature and symmetry, was killed on the spot. haps on themselves, a belief that they are triumphing The Frenchman who stepped out of his rank to take in the very moment of their discomfiture. On the 30th aim at Colonel Cameron, was also bayoneted, pierced March, 1811, their rear-guard was overtaken near Pega with a thousand wounds, and almost torn to pieces by by the British cavalry. Being well posted, and conceiv- the furious Highlanders, who, under the command of ing themselves safe from infantry (who were indeed Colonel Cadogan, bore the enemy out of the contested many miles in the rear), and from artillery, they in-ground at the point of the bayonet. Masséna pays my

countrymen a singular compliment in his account of able manner in which these opinions have been retractthe attack and defence of this village, in which he says, the British lost many officers, and Scotch.

Note 19. Conclusion. Stanza xiv.

O who shall grudge him Albuera's bays,

Who brought a race regenerate to the field,
Roused them to emulate their fathers' praise,

Temper'd their headlong rage, their courage steel'd.

ed. The success of this plan, with all its important consequences, we owe to the indefatigable exertions of Field-Marshal Beresford.

Note 20. Conclusion. Stanza xvii.

a race renown'd of old,

Whose war-cry oft bas waked the battle-swell.
This stanza alludes to the various achievements of

the warlike family of Græme, or Graham.

They are

Nothing during the war of Portugal seems, to a distinct observer, more deserving of praise, than the self-said, by tradition, to have descended from the Scottish devotion of Field-Marshal Beresford, who was contented to undertake all the hazard of obloquy which might have been founded upon any miscarriage in the highly important experiment of training the Portuguese troops to an improved state of discipline. In exposing his military reputation to the censure of imprudence from the most moderate, and all manner of unutterable ca

chief, under whose command his countrymen stormed the wall built by the Emperor Severus between the friths of Forth and Clyde, the fragments of which are still popularly called Græme's Dyke. Sir John the Græme, « the hardy, wight, and wise,» is well known as the friend of Sir William Wallace. Alderne, Kilsyth, and Tibbermuir, were scenes of the victories of the heroic Marquis of Montrose. The pass of Killycrankie is famous for the action between King William's forces and the Highlanders in 1689,

Where glad Dundee in faint huzzas expired.

lumnies from the ignorant and malignant, he placed at stake the dearest pledge which a military man had to offer, and nothing but the deepest conviction of the high and essential importance attached to success can be supposed an adequate motive. How great the chance of miscarriage was supposed, may be estimated from the general opinion of officers of unquestioned talents and experience, possessed of every opportunity of information; how completely the experiment has succeeded, and how much the spirit and patriotism of our The allusions to the private history and character of ancient allies had been under-rated, is evident, not only General Graham may be illustrated by referring to the from those victories in which they have borne a distin- eloquent and affecting speech of Mr Sheridan, upon the guished share, but from the liberal and highly honour-vote of thanks to the victor of Barrossa.

It is seldom that one line can number so many heroes, and yet more rare when it can appeal to the glory of a living descendant in support of its ancient

renown.

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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 :-(1)
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 WATERLOO !

III.

Fear not the heat, though full and high
The sun has scorch'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 courser's 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 bowers, Rise Hougoumont's dismantled towers.

IV.

Now, seest thou aught in this lone scene
Can tell of that which late hath been?—
A stranger might reply,

<< The bare extent of stubble-plain
Seems lately lighten'd of its grain;
And yonder sable tracks remain,
Marks of the peasant's ponderous wain,
When harvest-home was nigh.
On these broad spots of trampled ground,
Perchance the rustics danced such round
As Teniers loved to draw;

And where the earth seems scorch'd by flame,
To dress the homely feast they came,
And toil'd the kerchiefd village dame
Around her fire of straw.»-

V.

So deem'st thou-so 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.
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-craved 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.

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Vain hope!-that morn's o'erclouded 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.

For ten long hours of doubt and dread,
Fresh succours 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 turn'd not yet the doubtful fray
On bloody Waterloo.

IX.

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

Continued thunders came!

Each burgher 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 unfinish'd 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 baud,
Shook high her torch and gory brand!-
Cheer thee, fair city! From yon stand,
Impatient, still his outstretch'd hand

Points to his prey in vain,
While maddening in his eager mood,
And all unwont to be withstood,.
He fires the fight again.

X.

« On! On!» was still his stern exclaim,
<< Confront the battery's jaws of flame!
Rush on the levell'd gun! (3)
My steel-clad cuirassiers, advance!
Each Hulan forward with his lance,

My Guard-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 shunn'd to share. (4)
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—

« Soldiers, stand firm !» exclaim'd the chief, England shall tell the fight!» (5)

XI.

On came the whirlwind-like the last
But fiercest sweep of tempest blast-

On came the whirlwind-steal-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,
Peal'd wildly the imperial name.

XII.

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 festal 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 horsemen'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 cuirassier,
Horsemen and foot,- -a mingled host,
Their leaders fall'n, their standards lost.

XIII.

Then, WELLINGTON! thy piercing eye

This crisis caught of destiny.

The British host had stood

That morn 'gainst charge of sword and lance,

As their own ocean-rocks hold stance,

But when thy voice had said « Advance !»
They were their ocean's flood.-

O thou, whose inauspicious aim
Hath wrought thy host this hour of shame,
Think'st thou thy broken bands will bide
The terrors of yon rushing tide?

Or will thy chosen brook to feel
The British shock of levell'd steel? (7)
Or dost thou turn thine eye
Where coming squadrons gleam afar,
And fresher thunders wake the war,
And other standards fly?

Think not that in you columns file

Thy conquering troops from distant Dyle-
Is Blucher yet unknown?

Or dwells not in thy memory still
(Heard frequent in thine hour of ill),
What notes of hate and vengeance thrill

In Prussia's trumpet tone?

What yet remains?-shall it be thine
To head the relics of thy line

In one dread effort more?

The Roman lore thy leisure loved,

And thou canst tell what fortune proved

That chieftain, who, of yore, Ambition's dizzy paths essay'd, And with the gladiators' aid

For empire enterprised--

He stood the cast his rashness play'd,
Left not the victims he had made,
Dug his red grave with his own blade,
And on the field he lost was laid,
Abhorr'd--but not despised.

XIV.

But if revolves thy fainter thought
On safety-howsoever bought,

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

Of inconsistence faint and frail?
And art thou He of Lodi's bridge,
Marengo's field, and Wagram's ridge!
Or is thy soul like mountain-tide,

That, swell'd by winter storm and shower,
Rolls down in turbulence of power

A torrent fierce and wide;
'Reft of these aids, a rill obscure,
Shrinking unnoticed, mean and poor,
Whose channel shows display'd
The wrecks of its impetuous course,
But not one symptom of the force

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,-
«Oh 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 dread current burl'd-
So mingle banner, 'wain, and gun,
Where the tumultuous flight rolls on
Of warriors, who, when morn begun,
Defied a banded world.

XVI.
List-frequent to the hurrying rout,
The stern pursuers' vengeful shout
Tells, that upon their broken rear
Rages the Prussian's bloody spear.
So fell a shriek was none,
When Beresina's icy flood

Redden'd and thaw'd with flame and blood,

And, pressing on thy desperate way,
Raised oft and long their wild hurra,

The children of the Don.
Thine ear no yell of horror cleft
So ominous, when, all bereft

Of aid, the valiant Polack left-
Ay, left by thee-found soldier's grave
In Leipsic's corse-encumber'd wave.
Fate, in these various perils past,
Reserved thee still some future cast:-
On the dread die thou now hast thrown
Hangs not a single field alone,
Nor one campaign-thy martial fame,
Thy empire, dynasty, and name,

Have felt the final stroke;
And now, o'er thy devoted head
The last stern vial's wrath is shed,
The last dread seal is broke.
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 bath ever held the knife?-
Such homage hath been paid

By Roman and by Grecian voice,
And there were honour in the choice,
If it were freely made.

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Then safely come-in one so low,-
So lost, we cannot own a foe;
Though dear experience bid us end,
In thee we ne'er can hail a friend.-
Come howsoe'er, but do not hide
Close in thy heart that germ of pride,
Erewhile by gifted bard espied,

That << yet imperial hope ;»
Think not that for a fresh rebound,
To raise ambition from the ground,

We yield thee means or scope.
In safety come-but ne'er again
Hold type of independent reign;
No islet calls thee lord,

We leave thee no confederate band,
No symbol of thy lost command,

To be a dagger in the hand

From which we wrench'd the sword.

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