LXIV.

"So now, my lads, for glory!"— Here he turn'd And drill'd away in the most classic Russian, Until each high, heroic bosom burn'd

For cash and conquest, as if from a cushion A preacher had held forth (who nobly spurn'd [on All earthly goods save tithes) and bade them push To slay the Pagans who resisted, battering The armies of the Christian Empress Catherine.

LXV.

Johnson, who knew by this long colloquy
Himself a favourite, ventured to address
Suwarrow, though engaged with accents high
In his resumed amusement. "I confess
My debt in being thus allow'd to die

Among the foremost; but if you'd express
Explicitly our several posts, my friend
And self would know what duty to attend."

66

LXVI.

Right I was busy, and forgot. Why, you Will join your former regiment, which should be Now under arms. Ho! Katskoff, take him to

(Here he call'd up a Polish orderly) His post, I mean the regiment Nikolaiew:

The stranger stripling may remain with me;
He's a fine boy. The women may be sent
To the other baggage, or to the sick tent."

LXVII.

But here a sort of scene began to ensue :

The ladies, who by no means had been bred To be disposed of in a way so new,

Although their haram education led

Doubtless to that of doctrines the most true,

Passive obedience,—now raised up the head, With flashing eyes and starting tears, and flung Their arms, as hens their wings about their

young,

LXVIII.

O'er the promoted couple of brave men

Who were thus honour'd by the greatest chief That ever peopled hell with heroes slain,

Or plunged a province or a realm in grief. Oh, foolish mortals! Always taught in vain! Oh, glorious laurel! since for one sole leaf Of thine imaginary deathless tree,

Of blood and tears must flow the unebbing sea.

LXIX.

Suwarrow, who had small regard for tears,
And not much sympathy for blood, survey'd
The women with their hair about their ears
And natural agonies, with a slight shade

Of feeling: for however habit sears

[trade

Men's hearts against whole millions, when their

Is butchery, sometimes a single sorrow

Will touch even heroes-and such was Suwarrow.

LXX

He said, and in the kindest Calmuck tone,

66

Why, Johnson, what the devil do you mean By bringing women here? They shall be shown All the attention possible, and seen

In safety to the waggons, where alone

In fact they can be safe. You should have been Aware this kind of baggage never thrives: Save wed a year, I hate recruits with wives."

LXXI.

May it please your excellency," thus replied Our British friend, " these are the wives of others, And not our own. I am too qualified

By service with my military brothers

To break the rules by bringing one's own bride
Into a camp: I know that nought so bothers
The hearts of the heroic on a charge,
As leaving a small family at large.

LXXII.

"But these are but two Turkish ladies, who
With their attendant aided our escape,
And afterwards accompanied us through
A thousand perils in this dubious shape.
To me this kind of life is not so new;

To them, poor things, it is an awkward scrape. I therefore, if you wish me to fight freely, Request that they may both be used genteelly."

LXXIII.

Meantime these two poor girls, with swimming eyes,
Look'd on as if in doubt if they could trust
Their own protectors; nor was their surprise
Less than their grief (and truly not less just)
To see an old man, rather wild than wise

In aspect, plainly clad, besmear'd with dust,
Stript to his waistcoat, and that not too clean,
More fear'd than all the sultans ever seen.

LXXIV.

For every thing seem'd resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustom'd, as a sort of god,

To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad

(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,) With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt How power could condescend to do without.

LXXV.

John Johnson, seeing their extreme dismay,
Though little versed in feelings oriental,
Suggested some slight comfort in his way:

Don Juan, who was much more sentimental, Swore they should see him by the dawn of day, Or that the Russian army should repent all And, strange to say, they found some consolation In this for females like exaggeration.

:

LXXVI.

And then with tears, and sighs, and some slight kisses, They parted for the present-these to await, According to the artillery's hits or misses,

What sages call Chance, Providence, or Fate(Uncertainty is one of many blisses,

A mortgage on Humanity's estate)While their beloved friends began to arm, To burn a town which never did them harm.

LXXVII.

Suwarrow,-who but saw things in the gross,
Being much too gross to see them in detail,
Who calculated life as so much dross,

And as the wind a widow'd nation's wail,
And cared as little for his army's loss

(So that their efforts should at length prevail) As wife and friends did for the boils of Job,— What was't to him to hear two women sob

Nothing.

LXXVIII.

The work of glory still went on

In preparations for a cannonade.

As terrible as that of Ilion,

If Homer had found mortars ready made;

But now,

instead of slaying Priam's son,

We only can but talk of escalade,

[bullets;

Bombs, drums, guns, bastions, batteries, bayonets,

Hard words, which stick in the soft Muses' gullets.