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 ecstasy
Distinguish every tone

That fill'd the chorus of the fray-
From cannon-roar and trumpet-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 at length
Must limits find in human strength,

And cease when these are past.
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,'
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!"

1 It was affirmed by the prisoners of war, that Bonaparte had promised his army, in case of victory, twenty-four hours' plunder of the city of Brussels.

2 ["Within those walls there linger'd at that hour

Many a brave soldier on the bed of pain, Whom aid of human art should ne'er restore To see his country, and his friends again; And many a victim of that fell debate, Whose life yet waver'd in the scales of fate.

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 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!

My steel-clad cuirassiers, advance!
Each Hulan forward with his lance,

"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 nought.

"What had it been, then, in the recent days

Of that great triumph, when the open wound Was festering, and along the crowded ways,

Hour after hour was heard the incessant sound Of wheels, which o'er the rough and stony road Convey'd their living agonizing load!

"Hearts little to the melting mood inclined,

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 groan, half prayer, Breathed when his pain is more than he can bear."

SOUTHEY.]

1

My Guard-my Chosen-charge for France,
France and Napoleon!"1

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.2

The characteristic obstinacy of Napoleon was never more fully displayed than in what we may be permitted to hope will prove the last of his fields. He would listen to no advice, and allow of no obstacles. An eyewitness has given the following account of his demeanour towards the end of the action:

"It was near seven o'clock; Bonaparte, who till then had remained upon the ridge of the hill whence he could best behold what passed, contemplated with a stern countenance, the scene of this horrible slaughter. The more that obstacles seemed to multiply, the more his obstinacy seemed to increase. He became indignant at these unforeseen difficulties; and, far from fearing to push to extremities an army whose confidence in him was boundless, he ceased not to pour down fresh troops, and to give orders to march forward-to charge with the bayonet-to carry by storm. He was repeatedly informed, from different points, that the day went against him, and that the troops seemed to be disordered; to which he only replied,- En-avant! En-avant!' "One general sent to inform the Emperor that he was in a position which he could not maintain, because it was commanded by a battery, and requested to know, at the same time, in what way he should protect his division from the murderous fire of the English artillery. 'Let him storm the battery!' replied Bonaparte, and turned his back on the aide-de-camp who brought the message."- - Relatione de la Bataille de Mont-St-Jean. Par un Témoin Oculaire. Paris, 1815, 8vo, p. 51.

'It has been reported that Bonaparte charged at the head of his guards, at the last period of this dreadful conflict. This, however, is not accurate. He came down indeed to a hollow part of the high road, leading to Charleroi, within less than a quarter of a mile of the farm of La Haye Sainte, one of the points most fiercely disputed. Here he harangued the guards,

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 !"

and informed them that his preceding operations had destroyed the British infantry and cavalry, and that they had only to sup port the fire of the artillery, which they were to attack with the bayonet. This exhortation was received with shouts of Vive l'Empereur, which were heard over all our line, and led to an

idea that Napoleon was charging in person. But the guards were led on by Ney; nor did Bonaparte approach nearer the scene of action than the spot already mentioned, which the rising banks on each side rendered secure from all such balls as did not come in a straight line. He witnessed the earlier part of the battle from places yet more remote, particularly from an observatory which had been placed there by the King of the Netherlands, some weeks before, for the purpose of surveying the country.* It is not meant to infer from these particulars that Napoleon showed, on that memorable occasion, the least deficiency in personal courage; on the contrary, he evinced the greatest composure and presence of mind during the whole action. But it is no less true that report has erred in ascribing to him any desperate efforts of valour for recovery of the battle; and it is remarkable, that during the whole carnage, none of his suite were either killed or wounded, whereas scarcely one of the Duke of Wellington's personal attendants escaped unhurt.

1 In riding up to a regiment which was hard pressed, the Duke called to the men, "Soldiers, we must never be beat,-what will they say in England?" It is needless to say how this appeal was answered.

* The mistakes concerning this observatory have been mutual. The English supposed it was erected for the use of Bonaparte: and a French writer affirms it was constructed by the Duke of Wellington.