Became un

Surrounded bui

Which, though 'twere wild, -as on the plunder'd wreck
When mariners would madly meet their doom

With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,
Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forebore to check.

-

(1) "PRIDE of place" is a term of falconry, and means the highest pitch of

Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain,

Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through
Ambition's life and labours all were vain;

He wears the shatter'd links of the world's broken chain.

XIX.

Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit
And foam in fetters; - but is Earth more free?
Did nations combat to make One submit ;
Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty
What! shall reviving Thraldom again be
The patch'd-up idol of enlighten'd days?
Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we
Pay the Wolf homage? proffering lowly gaze

what did Taccomplish?

And servile knees to thrones? No; prove before ye praise!

XX.

If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more!
In vain fair cheeks were furrow'd with hot tears
For Europe's flowers long rooted up before
The trampler of her vineyards; in vain years
Of death depopulation, bondage, fears,
Have all been borne, and broken by the accord
Of roused-up millions: all that most endears
Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes a sword
Such as Harmodius (1) drew on Athens' tyrant lord.

XXI.

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage-bell; (2)

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell !

(1) See the famous song on Harmodius and Aristogiton. The best English translation is in Bland's Anthology, by Mr. Denman.

"With myrtle my sword will I wreathe," &c.

(2) On the night previous to the action, it is said that a ball was given at Brussels.

XXII.

not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;

Did

ye

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet-

that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

But, hark!

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm it is - it is

the cannon's opening roar !

XXIII.

chief heard fest - Killeb

Within a window'd niche of that high hall
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear
That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear:
And when they smiled because he deem'd it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier,
And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell :
He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.

XXIV.

end of revelry

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness ;
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?

XXV.

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ;

And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb,

all leave bare

Or whispering, with white lips "The foe! They come ! they come!"

wing even

Jāno Senauh

dead

XXVI.

And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering" rose!
The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instils
The stirring memory of a thousand years,

And (1) Evan's, (2) Donald's fame rings in each clansman's

ears!

XXVII.

And Ardennes (3) waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave, alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass

Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass

Of living valour, rolling on the foe

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low

XXVIII.

1 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife. J
>The morn the marshalling in arms,
the day
Battle's magnificently-stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent
The earth is cover'd thick with other clay,

Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent,
Rider and horse, friend, foe,

in one red burial blent!

(1,2) Sir Evan Cameron, and his descendant Donald, the "gentle Lochiel " of the é
forty-five."

(3) The wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the "forest of Arden-
nes," famous in Boiardo's Orlando, and immortal in Shakspeare's "As you like
it." It is also celebrated in Tacitus as being the spot of successful defence by the
Germans against the Roman encroachments. I have ventured to adopt the name
connected with nobler associations than those of mere slaughter.

128

XXIX.

Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine, Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong, And partly that bright names will hallow song; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd, They reach'd no_nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard"!

XXX.

There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee,
And mine were nothing, had I such to give;
But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree,
Which living waves where thou didst cease to live,
And saw around me the wide field revive

With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring
Come forth her work of gladness to contrive,

With all her reckless birds upon the wing,

I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring. (1)

XXXI.

I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each
And one as all a ghastly gap did make

In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach
Forgetfulness were mercy for their sake;

The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake

(1) My guide from Mont St. Jean over the field seemed intelligent and accurate. The place where Major Howard fell was not far from two tall and solitary trees (there was a third cut down, or shivered in the battle) which stand a few yards from each other at a pathway's side.. Beneath these he died and was buried. The body has since been removed to England. A small hollow for the present marks where it lay, but will probably soon be effaced; the plough has been upon it, and the grain is.

After pointing out the different spots where Picton and other gallant men had perished, the guide said, " Here Major Howard lay: I was near him when wounded." I told him my relationship, and he seemed then still more anxious to point out the particular spot and circumstances. The place is one of the most marked in the field from the peculiarity of the two trees above mentioned.

I went on horseback twice over the field, comparing it with my recollection of similar scenes. As a plain, Waterloo seems marked out for the scene of some great action, though this may be mere imagination: I have viewed with attention those of Platea, Troy, Mantinea, Leuctra, Chæronea, and Marathon; and the field around Mont St. Jean and Hougoumont appears to want little but a better cause, and that undefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages throws around a celebrated spot, to vie in interest which any or all of these, except perhaps the last mentioned.