XXIV. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 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, Or whispering, with white lips -"The foe! They come! they come!" XXVI. And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering" rose! But with the breath which fills [ears! And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's Sir Evan Cameron, and his descendant Donald, the "gentle Lochiel" of the "forty-five." XXVII. And Ardennes 1 waves above them her green leaves, Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. XXVIII. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial blent ! 2 1 The wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the forest of Ardennes, 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. 2 [Childe Harold, though he shuns to celebrate the victory of Waterloo, gives us here a most beautiful description of the evening which preceded the battle of Quatre Bras, the alarm which called out the troops, and the hurry and confusion which preceded their march. I am not sure that any verses in our language surpass, in vigour and in feeling, this most beautiful description.- SIR WALTER SCOTT.] I 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, 1 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! 2 XXX. There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring. 3 [See English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.] 2 ["In the late battles, like all the world, I have lost a connection-poor Frederick Howard, the best of his race. I had little intercourse of late years with his family; but I never saw or heard but good of him."— Lord B. to Mr. Moore.] 3 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 XXXI. I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake The fever of vain longing, and the name So honour'd but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. XXXII. They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn: The tree will wither long before it fall; The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn ; Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone; The day drags through though storms keep out the sun; And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on: 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 with any or all of these, except, perhaps, the last mentioned. XXXIII. Even as a broken mirror, which the glass The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold. ' XXXIV. There is a very life in our despair, Which feeds these deadly branches; for it were Like to the apples 2 on the Dead Sea's shore, say, would he name threescore? XXXV. The Psalmist number'd out the years of man : Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span, [There is a richness and energy in this passage, which is peculiar to Lord Byron, among all modern poets, a throng of glowing images, poured forth at once, with a facility and profusion, which must appear mere wastefulness to more economical writers, and a certain negligence and harshness of diction, which can belong only to an author who is oppressed with the exuberance and rapidity of his conceptions. - JEFFREY.] The (fabled) apples on the brink of the lake Asphaltes were said to be fair without, and, within, ashes. Vide Tacitus, Histor. lib. v. 7. |