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But yet, to sum this hour of ill,
List frequent to the hurrying rout
Since live thou wilt, refuse not now Before these demagogues to bow,
Late objects of thy scorn and hate,
Yet even in yon sequester'd spot
XIX. too, whose deeds of fame
renew’d Bankrupt a nation's gratitude, To thine own noble heart must owe More than the meed she can bestow. For not a people's just acclaim, Not the full hail of Europe's fame, Thy Prince's smiles, thy State's decree, The ducal rank, the garter'd knee,_ Not these such pure delight afford As that, when hanging up thy sword, Well may'st thou think, ‘This honest
steel Was ever drawn for public weal; And, such was rightful Heaven's
decree, Ne'er sheathed unless with victory !’
Look forth once more with soften’d
XXI. Period of honour as of woes, Whatbright careers’twas thine to close! Mark'd on thy roll of blood what names To Briton's memory, and to Fame's, Laid there their last immortal claims Thou saw'st in seas of gore expire Redoubted Picton's soul of fire, Saw'st in the mingled carnage lie All that of Ponsonby could die, De Lancey change Love's bridalwreath For laurels from the hand of Death, Saw'st gallant Miller's failing eye Still bent where Albion's banners fly, And Cameron in the shock of steel Die like the offspring of Lochiel; And generous Gordon 'mid the strife Fall while he watch'd his leader's life. Ah! though her guardian angel's shield Fenced Britain's hero through the field, Fate not the less her power made known, Through his friends' hearts to pierce his own | XXII. Forgive, brave Dead, the imperfect lay! Who may your names, your numbers, say? What high-strung harp, what loftyline, To each the dear-earn'd praise assign, From high-born chiefs of martial fame To the poor soldier's lowlier name Lightly ye rose that dawning day, From your cold couch of swamp and clay, To fill, before the sun was low, The bed that morning cannot know.
Oft may the tear the green sod steep,
Farewell, sad Field ! whose blighted
STERN tide of human Time ! that know'st not rest, But, sweeping from the cradle to
the tomb, Bear'st everdownward on thy dusky breast Successive generations to their doom;
While thy capacious stream has equal room
For the gay bark where pleasure's streamers sport,
And for the prison-ship of guilt and gloom,
The fisher-skiff, and barge that bears a court,
Still wafting onward all to one dark
Stern tide of Time ! through what mysterious change Of hope and fear have our frailbarks been driven | For ne'er before, vicissitude so strange Was to one race of Adam's offspring given. And sure such varied change of sea and heaven Such unexpected bursts of joy and woe, Such fearful strife as that where we have striven, Succeeding ages ne'er again shall know, Until the awful term when thou shalt cease to flow !
Well hast thou stood, my Country! the brave fight Hast well maintain'd through good report and ill; In thy just cause and in thy native might, And in Heaven's grace and justice constant still ; Whether the banded prowess, strength, and skill Of half the world against thee stood array'd, Or when, with better views and freer will, Beside thee Europe's noblest drew the blade, Each emulous in arms the Ocean Queen to aid.
The characteristic obstinacy of Napoleon was never more fully displayed than in what we may be permitted to o 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 Bónaparte, and turned his back on the aide-de-camp who brought the message.”—Relation de la Bataille de Mons. St. Jean. Parum 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 .#. This, however, is not accurate. He came down indeed to a holiow 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, and informed them that his preceding operationshad destroyed the British infantry and cavalry, and that they had only to support the fire of the artillery, which they were to attack with the bayonet. This exhortation was received with shouts of Vize ! 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 * 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, #: the purpose of surveying , the country. It is not meant to infer from these particulars that Napoleon showed, on that