THE BATTLE 
 
 OF 
 
 TALAVERA. 
 
 TENTH EDITION. 
 
 Sibi cognomen in hoste 
 
 Fecit; et Hispanam sanguine tinxit /mmurn.' 
 Ov. FAST. 6. 
 
 llo ntn on : 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET. 
 1816.
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 TALAVERA 
 
 Dicam insigne, recens, adhuc 
 Indicium ore alia. 
 
 I. 
 
 'TwAS dark ; from every mountain head 
 The sunny smile of heaven had fled, 
 And evening, over hill and dale 
 Dropt, with the dew, her shadowy veil ; 
 In fabled Teio's darkening tide
 
 2 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Was quenched the golden ray; 
 Silent, the silent stream beside, 
 Three gallant people's hope and pride, 
 
 Three gallant armies lay. 
 France, every nation's foe, is there, 
 And Albion's sons her red cross bear, 
 With Spain's young Liberty to share 
 
 The patriot array, 
 
 Which, spurning the oppressor's chain, 
 Springs arm'd, from every hill and plain 
 From ocean to the eastern main 
 
 From Seville to Biscaye. 
 All, from the dawn till even-tide, 
 The fortune of the field had tried 
 
 In loose but bloody fray ; 
 And now with thoughts of dubious fate 

 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Feverish and weary, they await 
 A fiercer, bloodier day. 
 
 it. 
 
 Fraternal France's chosen bands 
 He of the stolen crown commands, 
 And on Alberche's hither sands 
 
 Pitches his tents to-night : 
 While, Talavera's wall between 
 And olive groves and gardens green, 
 
 Spain quarters on the right ; 
 All scattered in the open air 
 In deep repose ; save here and there, 
 
 Pondering to-morrow's fight, 
 A spearman, in his midnight prayer, 
 Invokes our Blessed Lady's caie
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 And good Saint James's might. 
 Thence to the left, across the plain 
 
 And on the neighbouring height, 
 The British bands, a watchful train, 
 Their wide and warded line maintain, 
 Fronting the east, as if to gain 
 
 The earliest glimpse of light. 
 
 III. 
 
 While there, with toil and watching worn, 
 The Island warriors wait the morn, 
 
 And think the hours too slow ; 
 Hark ! on the midnight breezes borne 
 
 Sounds from the vale below ! 
 What sounds ? No gleam of arms they see, 
 Yet still they hear What may it be ?
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 It is, it is the foe ! 
 
 From every hand and heart and head 
 As quick was never lightning sped 
 Weakness and weariness are fled ; 
 
 And down the mountain steeps, 
 Along the vale, and through the shade, 
 With ball and bayonet and blade, 
 They seek the foe who dares invade 
 
 The watch that England keeps. 
 Nor do the dauntless sons of France 
 Idly await the hot advance : 
 
 As active and as brave 
 Thrice rush they on, and thrice their shock 
 Rebounding breaks, as from the rock 
 
 Is dash'd the wintry wave.
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But soon the darkling armies blend, 
 Promiscuous death around they send, 
 Foe falls by foe and friend by friend 
 
 In mingled heaps overthrown : 
 And many a gallant feat is done, 
 And many a laurel lost and won, 
 
 Unwitnessed and unknown ; 
 Feats, that achieved in face of day, 
 Had fired the bard's enthusiast lay, 
 And, in some holy aisle, for aye 
 
 Had lived in sculptured stone. 
 Oh, for a blaze from heaven, to light 
 The wonders of that gloomy fight, 
 
 The guerdon to bestow,
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Of which the sullen envious night 
 Bereaves the warrior's brow ! 
 Furious they strike without a mark, 
 Save where the sudden sulphurous spark 
 Illumes some visage grim and dark, 
 
 That with the flash is gone ! 
 And, 'midst the conflict, only know, 
 If chance has sped the fatal blow, 
 Or by the trodden corse below, 
 Or by the dying groan. 
 
 V. 
 
 Far o'er the plain, and to the shores 
 Of Teio and Alberche, roars 
 The tumult of the fight ; 
 The distant camps, alarmed, arise ; 
 And throbbing hearts, and straining eyes
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Watch, through the dull and vapoury skies, 
 
 The portents of the night 
 The vollying peals, terrific cries, 
 
 And gleams of lurid light 
 But all is indistinct : in vain 
 The anxious crowds their senses strain, 
 
 And, in the flash or shout, 
 Fancy they catch the* signal plain 
 
 Of victory or rout : 
 The signal dies away again, 
 And the still, breathless crowds remain 
 
 In darkness and in doubt. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus rolTd the short yet lingering night 
 
 Its clouds o'er hill and dale ; 
 But when the morning show'd in light
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 The wreck of that tempestuous fight 
 
 Scattered along the vale ; 
 Still seated on her trophied height, 
 Britain exulted at the sight, 
 
 And France"^ cheek grew pale. 
 Lords of the field, the victors view 
 Ten gallant French the turf bestrew 
 
 For every Briton slain : 
 They view, with not unmingled pride ; 
 Some anxious thoughts their souls divide 
 
 Their throbbing hopes restrain ; 
 Hundreds beneath their arm have died, 
 
 But myriads still remain : 
 A sterner strife must yet be tried, 
 A more tempestuous day decide 
 
 The wavering fates of Spain.
 
 10 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 VII. 
 
 From the hill summit they behold, 
 By the first beams of orient gold 
 
 In adverse arms reveaTd, 
 Full fifty thousand warriors bold, 
 Inured to war, in conquest old, 
 
 To toil and terror steeFd : 
 
 But they, as steel'd to fear or toil, 
 
 f 
 
 As bold, as proud of war-won spoil, 
 
 In victory's path as skuTd, 
 Though doomed with twice their strength to try 
 
 The hard unequal field, 
 They view the foe with kindling eye, 
 And, in their generous transport, cry 
 " Conquer we may perhaps must die ; 
 
 " But never, never yield !"
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 11 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thus ardent they : but who can tell, 
 
 In Wellesley's heart what passions swell ? 
 
 What cares must agitate his mind, 
 
 What wishes, doubts, and hoj^es combined, 
 
 Whom with his country's chosen bands, 
 
 'Midst cold allies, in foreign lands, 
 
 Outnumbering foes surround ; 
 From whom that country's jealous call 
 Demands the blood, the fame of all ; 
 To whom 'twere not enough to fall, 
 
 Unless with victory crown'd ? 
 O heart of honour f soul of fire ! 
 Even at that moment fierce and dire, 
 
 Thy agony of fame, 
 When Britain's fortune dubious hung,
 
 12 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 And France tremendous swept along 
 
 In tides of blood and flame ; 
 Even while thy genius and thy arm 
 Retrieved the day, and turn'd the storm 
 
 To France's rout and shame, 
 Even at that moment, factious spite 
 And envious fraud conspired to blight 
 The honours of thy name ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 He thinks not of them : From that height 
 He views the scene of future fight, 
 And, silent and serene, surveys, 
 Down to the plain where Teio strays, 
 The woods, the streams, the mountain ways, 
 Each dell and sylvan hold :
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 13 
 
 Prescient of all the war, he knows 
 On wing or center, where the foes 
 
 May pour their fury most ; 
 And marks what portion of the field 
 To their advance 'twere good to yield, 
 
 And what must not be lost. 
 And all his gallant chiefs around 
 Observant watch, where o'er the ground 
 
 His eagle glance has rolled. 
 Few words he spake, or needed they, 
 Of counsel for the approaching fray, 
 Where to condense the loose array, 
 
 Or where the line unfold : 
 They saw, they felt what he would say, 
 And the best order of the day, 
 
 It was his eye that told.
 
 14 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 X. 
 
 And is it now a goodly sight, 
 
 Or dreadful, to behold 
 The pomp of that approaching fight 
 Waving ensigns, pennons light, 
 And gleaming blades and bayonets bright, 
 
 And eagles wing'd with gold ; 
 And warrior bands of many a hue, 
 Scarlet and white and green and blue, 
 Like rainbows, o'er the morning dew 
 
 Their varied tints unfold : 
 While swells the martial din around, 
 And, starting at the bugle's sound, 
 The tramping squadrons beat the ground, 
 
 And drums unceasing roll : 
 Frequent and long the warrior cheer }
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 15 
 
 To glory's perilous career 
 
 Awakes and fires the soul : 
 And oft, by fits confused and clear, 
 The din and clang, to fancy's ear, 
 
 The knell of thousands toll. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Soon, soon shall vanish that array, 
 Those varied colours fade away 
 
 Like meteors light and vain, 
 And eagle bright and pennon gay, 
 
 Ensanguined dust distain : 
 And soon be hush'd in various death, 
 The cymbal's clang, the clarion's breath, 
 
 The thunder of the plain : 
 That sun which fires the eastern sky
 
 16 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Shall set, ere noon, to many an eye 
 
 In battle's stormy main ! 
 The young, the gay, the proud, the strong, 
 Ghastly and gored, shall lie along 
 
 In mingled carnage piled. 
 Blood shall pollute the limpid source, 
 And Teio flow, with many a corse 
 
 Affrighted and defiled. 
 ...; 
 
 XII. 
 
 But not alone by Teio's shore, 
 Tho"" heaped with slain, and red with gore, 
 
 The tide of grief shall flow : 
 'Tis not amidst the din of fight, 
 Nor on the warrior's crested height, 
 
 Death strikes his direst blow :
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 17 
 
 Far from the fray, unseen and late, 
 Descend the bitterest shafts of fate, 
 Where tender love, and pious care 
 The lingering hours of absence wear 
 
 In solitude and gloom ; 
 And, mingling many a prayer and tear, 
 Of sire, or child, or husband dear 
 
 Anticipate the doom : 
 Their hopes no trophied prospects cheer, 
 
 For them no laurels bloom ; 
 But trembling hope, and feverish fear, 
 Forebodings wild, and visions drear 
 
 Their anguished hearts consume. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 All tremble now, but not on all, 
 Poison'd with equal woe, shall fall
 
 18 THE BATTLE OF TALAVEKA. 
 
 The shaft of destiny : to some 
 The dreadful tale of ill shall come, 
 
 Not unallayed with good ; 
 And they, with mingled grief and pride, 
 Shall hear that in the battle's tide 
 Their darling soldier sank and died ; 
 
 Died as a soldier should ! 
 But in the rough and stormy fray, 
 Many are doomed to death to-day, 
 Whose fate shall ne'er at home be told, 
 Whose very names the grave shall fold ; 
 Many, for whose return, in vain 
 The wistful eye of love shall strain, 
 In vain parental fondness sigh, 
 In cruel hope that ne'er can die, 
 
 And filial sorrow mourn
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 19 
 
 On Talavera's plain they lie, 
 No ! never to return ! 
 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But, tyrant, thou, the cause of all 
 The blood that streams, the tears that fall, 
 Who, by no faith or fear confined, 
 In impious triumph o'er mankind, 
 
 Thy desolating course hast driven, 
 Bursting the sacred ties that bind 
 
 Man to his fellow and to heaven ! 
 All great and guilty as thou art, 
 Thou of the iron hand and heart, 
 Shalt suffer yet the vengeance due 
 
 To him, who swears but to betray, 
 Whose friendship aids but to undo,
 
 20 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 And only smiles to slay ! 
 The insatiate fiend who drives thee on 
 
 With treacherous hope elate, 
 From crime to crime, and throne to throne, 
 From Afric to the arctic zone, 
 
 But dupes thee to thy fate : 
 And Heav'n which, by thy power overthrown, 
 Will one day vindicate its own, 
 
 Condemns thee to be great ! 
 The tempest, now thy sport and pride, 
 The flood on which thy fortunes ride, 
 
 Presumptuous and blind, 
 Ceasing at Heaven's command to roar, 
 Shall cast thee naked on the shore, 
 The hate, and what thou fearest more, 
 
 The jest of all mankind.
 
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 21 
 
 And in thy hour of parting pain, 
 
 The parents', widows', orphans' moan, 
 
 The shrieking of the battle plain, 
 
 The strangled prisoners' midnight groan, 
 
 Shall harrow up thy brain ; 
 
 From countless graves, the ghastly crew 
 
 ( 
 Shall burst upon thy frensied view 
 
 Thou peopler of the tomb ! 
 And, stern and silent 'midst their cries, 
 The murcler'd heir of Bourbon rise, 
 
 And through the shadowy gloom, 
 Shake the curst torches in thine eyes 
 
 That lighted to his doom ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 But not to that tremendous hour 
 
 Does Heaven remit its torturing power ;
 
 22 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 And ev'n thy tyrant heart shall feel, 
 That here that tiozc there's vengeance still 
 In vain, thy gorgeous state would hide 
 Of conscious fear and wounded pride, 
 
 The self-inflicted pang ; 
 Though monarchs to thy car be tied, 
 Though over half the world beside, 
 
 Thy chains of conquest clang, 
 Britain and Spain, erect and proud, 
 Defy thee to the strife aloud, 
 And wave to Europe's servile crowd, 
 
 The flag of liberty : 
 In it, thou seest thy glory's shroud ; 
 It's shadow, like a thunder cloud, 
 
 O'erhangs thy destiny. 

 
 9. 
 ft 
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 23 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Yes, thou shalt learn and, at the tale, 
 Thy pride shall shrink, thy hope shall fail, 
 
 Though falsehood's hand have trac'd 
 The lying legend thou shall know 
 Thy marshals foiled thy thousands low 
 
 Thy puppet King disgraced ! 
 Far other thoughts their bosoms fill ; 
 As now to Talavera's hill 
 Proud in their numbers and their skill, 
 
 The Gallic columns haste : 
 'The same they are, and led by those, 
 The scourges of the world's repose, 
 Victors of Milan's fair domain, 
 
 . . 
 Of AusterlnVs wintry plain, 
 
 And Friedland's sandy waste : 
 

 
 24 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Who Prussia's shivered sceptre hurFd 
 Down to the dust, and from the world 
 
 Her very name erased : 
 Who boast them, in presumptuous tone, 
 Each feat and fortune to have known 
 Of war, except defeat alone ; 
 
 But now of that to taste ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Valiant tho 1 vain, tho 1 boastful wise 
 Marshals, and Dukes ! with skilful eyes 
 
 They view the adverse line ; 
 And well their prudent councils weigh 
 The eventful danger of the day, 
 
 Where Britain's banners shine. 
 4 What though the Spanish spear we foil, 

 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 25 
 
 * Poor were the prize, and vain the toil : 
 
 * Nothing is done till Britain's spoil 
 
 * Attest our victory : 
 
 * Till, on the wings of terror borne, 
 
 ' The Leopards, scattered and forlorn, 
 ' Fly to their guardian sea. 
 
 ' On then ! let Britain prove our might ! 
 
 f> 
 ( Tier's be the trial of the fight, 
 
 f The peril and the pain ! 
 
 * Press her with growing thousands round, 
 ' Dash that red banner to the ground, 
 
 ' And seal the fate of Spain P 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Thus France her baseless vision forms : 
 But HE, long tried in battle storms 
 In Ind's unequal war
 
 26 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Scattering, like dust, the sable swarms 
 
 Of Scindiah and Berar ; 
 HE, conqueror still where'er he turns, 
 
 On Zealand's frozen reign, 
 Or where the sultry summer burns 
 
 Vimero's rocky plain ; 
 Who, from his tyrant station shook, 
 With grasp of steel, Abrantes 1 Duke ; 
 HE, who from Douro's rescued side, 
 Dispersed Dalmatia's upstart pride ; 
 In fortune and desert, the same 
 
 On every scene of war, 
 Sebastiani's pride shall tame ; 
 And practised Jourdan's veteran fame, 
 And Victor ! thy portentous name 
 
 Shall fade before his star !
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 27 
 
 XIX. 
 
 In front of Talavera's wall, 
 
 And near the confluent streams, the Gaul 
 
 His royal banner rears to sight, 
 
 With all the borrow'd blazon bright 
 
 Of Leon and Castille ; 
 And seems to meditate a fight 
 
 That Spain alone shall feel. 
 Oh, vain pretence ! to Wellesley's eyes, 
 
 As pervious as the air ! 
 He knows, that while the red cross flies, 
 From the strong covert, where she lies 
 Entrench'd and sheltered, Spain defies 
 
 The utmost France can dare 
 That Britain, on her blood-stained hill, 
 
 The brunt of fight must bear 
 And France, though baffled thrice, will still
 
 28 THE BATTLE OF TA LAYER A. 
 
 Strain all her force, exhaust her skill, 
 
 To plant her eagles there ; 
 Which soon, from that commanding height 
 Would speed their desolating flight, 
 And, sweeping o ? er the scattered plain, 
 The hopes of England and of Spain 
 With iron talon tear. 
 
 XX 
 
 Now from the dark artillery broke 
 Lightning flash and thunder stroke ; 
 And cloud on cloud of fiery smoke 
 
 Rolls in the darkened air : 
 Wrapp'd in its shade, unheard, unseen, 
 Artful surprise and onset keen 
 
 The crafty foes prepare
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 29 
 
 Three columns of the flower of France 
 With rapid step and firm, advance, 
 
 At first thro" tangled ground, 
 O'er fence and dell and deep ravine ; 
 At length they reach the level green 
 The midnight battle's murderous scene 
 
 The valley's eastern bound. 
 There in a rapid line they form, 
 Thence are just rushing to the storm 
 
 By bold Belluno led, 
 When sudden thunders shake the vale, 
 Day seems, as if eclipsed, to fail, 
 
 The light of heaven is fled ; 
 A dusty whirlwind rides the sky, 
 A living tempest rushes by
 
 30 THE BATTLE OF TALAVEIU. 
 
 With deafening clang and tread 
 ' A charge ! a charge P the British cry, 
 ' And Seymour at its head.' 
 
 
 XXL 
 
 Belluno sees the coming storm, 
 
 And feels the instant need 
 ' Break up the line, the column form, 
 
 ' And break and form with speed, 
 * Or under Britain's thundering arm 
 
 * In rout and ruin bleed !' 
 Quick, as upon the sea-beat sands 
 Vanish the works of childish hands, 
 
 The lengthened lines are gone, 
 And broken into nimble bands 
 
 Across the plain they run :
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. SI 
 
 Spur, Britain, spur thy foaming horse, 
 ' Overtake them in their scattered course, 
 
 And sweep them from the land !' 
 She spurs, she flies ; in vain, in vain 
 Already they have passM the plain, 
 And now the broken ground they gain, 
 
 And now, a column, stand ! 
 4 Rein up thy courser, Britain, rein T 
 But who the tempest can restrain ? 
 
 The mountain flood command ? 
 Down the ravine, with hideous crash, 
 Headlong the foremost squadrons dash, 
 And many a soldier, many a steed 
 Crushed in the dire confusion bleed. 
 The rest, as ruin fills the trench, 
 Pass clear, and on the columned French, 

 
 32 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 A broken and tumultuous throng, 
 With glorious rashness pour along, 
 
 Too prodigal of life ; 
 And they had died, ay every one, 
 But Wellesley cries, ' On, Anson, on, 
 ' Langworth, and Albuquerque and Payne, 
 ' Lead Britain, Hanover, and Spain, 
 
 ' And turn the unequal strife.' 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Needs it to tell how fierce the flame 
 Burn'd of that doubtful strife, 
 
 Whose precious prize was life, and fame 
 More precious still than life ! 
 
 By France what English hearts were gor'd, 
 
 What crests were cleft by Britain's sword, 

 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 33 
 
 When horse and foot infuriate met, 
 And sabre clash'd with bayonet, 
 And how they fought and how they fell, 
 And man and steed, 'midst shout and yell, 
 
 The field of carnage strewed : 
 It were a tedious tale to tell, 
 
 A tedious tale of blood. 
 But when the fierce and cloudless sun 
 
 Blazed from his noontide height, 
 And ere the field was lost or won, 
 
 Worn and unable quite 
 The hostile stroke to make or shun, 
 Faint, breathless, all with toil foredone, 
 
 They paused amid the fight ! 
 Oft, when the midnight tempests sweep 
 With fiercest fury o'er the deep, 
 
 B 

 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Short, sullen pauses intervene, 
 And, ev'ry fitful gust between, 
 
 The stormy roar is stuTd : 
 Thus was the rage of battle staid, 
 And clash of bayonet and blade 
 
 Subsided o'er the field : 
 Hushed was the shout, the tumult laid, 
 And each receding line obey'd 
 The truce which weary nature made, 
 
 And mutual honour seaTd. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 There is a brook, that from its source 
 
 High in the rocky hill, 
 Pours o'er the plain its limpid course. 
 To pay to Teio's monarch force 
 
 Its tributary rill ;
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 35 
 
 Which, in the peaceful summer-tide, 
 The swarthy shepherd sits beside, 
 And loitering, as it rolls along 
 In cadence pours his rustic song 
 Carol of love or pious chaunt, 
 Or tale of knight and giant gaunt, 
 
 And lady captive held ; 
 Or strains, not fabled, of the war, 
 Where the great champion of Bivar 
 
 The Moorish pagan quelPd. 
 But now, no shepherd loiters there 
 He flies, with all his fleecy care, 
 
 To mountains high and far, 
 And starts, and breathless stops to hear 
 Borne on the breeze, and to his fear 
 Seeming, at every gust, more near, 
 
 The distant roar of war. 
 
 '
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But on the streamlet's margin green 
 
 Other than shepherd forms are seen ; 
 
 % 
 And sounds, unlike the rustic song, 
 
 The troubled current rolls along ; 
 When, of the cooling wave to taste, 
 From either host the warriors haste 
 
 With busy tread and hum : 
 You would have thought that streamlet bound 
 Were listed field or sacred ground 
 
 Where battle might not come. 
 So late in adverse contest tried, 
 So deep in recent carnage dyed, 
 To mutual honour they confide 
 
 Their mutual fates ; nor shrink 
 TO throw the cap and helm aside,
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 37 
 
 As, mingled o'er the narrow tide, 
 
 They bend their heads to drink ; 
 Or, nature"^ feverish wants supplied, 
 UnarnVd, unguarded, side by side, 
 Safe in a soldier's faith and pride 
 
 They rest them on the brink. 
 They speak not in each others phrase 
 Unskilled but yet the thoughts of praise, 
 
 And honour* to unfold, 
 The heart has utterance of its own ; 
 And ere the signal trump was blown, 
 
 And ere the drum had rolTd, 
 The honest grasp of manly hands, 
 That common link of distant lands, 
 That sign which nature understands, 
 
 The generous feeling told :
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 The high and sacred pledge it gave, 
 That both were true, and both were brave, 
 And something added of regret, 
 At parting when so lately met, 
 
 And (not developed quite) 
 Some dubious hopes of meeting yet 
 As heaven then- devious paths might set, 
 
 In friendship or in fight. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But short the truce that they can keep 
 
 For now the signals shrill 
 Sounding along, from plain and steep, 
 Longer forbid the fight to sleep ; 
 Light from the ground the warriors leap, 
 
 And seize the rein and steel :
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 39 
 
 All arm'd, all ardent, all array'd, 
 
 Again their weapons wield ; 
 And echoing thro 1 the livid shade, 
 The clash of bayonet and blade 
 
 Revives along the field. 
 The hurried fight from post to post, 
 Kindles, but on the center most, 
 Whence, hoping on a happier stage, 
 The renovated war to wage, 
 
 France now assails the hill, 
 And pours with aggregated rage 
 
 The storm of fire and steel ; 
 Soon from the eye the hostile crowd 
 
 The gathering shade conceals, 
 While from its bosom, long and loud, 
 Like thunder from a vernal cloud, 
 
 The din of battle peak
 
 40 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But when the freshening breezes broke 
 A chasm in the volumed smoke, 
 Busy and black was seen to wave 
 
 The iron harvest of the field, 
 
 That harvest, which, in slaughter tilPd, 
 Is gathered in the grave : 
 And now before their mutual fires 
 
 They yield, and now advance ; 
 And now 'tis Britain that retires, 
 
 And now the line of France : 
 They struggle long with changeful fate ; 
 
 And all the battle's various cries, 
 Now depressed and now elate, 
 
 In mingled clamours rise ; 
 Till France at length before the weight 

 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 41 
 
 Of British onset flies : 
 ' Forward, 1 the fiery victors shout, 
 ' Forward, the enemy's in rout, 
 
 ' Pursue him and he dies f 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Hot and impetuous they pursued, 
 
 And wild with carnage, drunk with blood, 
 
 Rush'd on the plain below ; 
 The wily Frenchman saw and stood 
 Screened by the verges of the wood 
 
 He turn'd him on the foe. 
 The gallant bands that guard the crown 
 Of England, led the battle down, 
 
 And, in their furious mood, 
 
 
 Thrice they essay'd with onset fierce, 

 
 
 42 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Thrice fail'd, collected France to pierce 
 
 Still France collected, stood f 
 While full on each uncovered flank 
 Cannon and mortar swept their rank, 
 And many a generous Briton sank 
 
 Before the dreadful blaze ; 
 Yet 'midst that dreadful blaze and din 
 
 The fearless shout they raise, 
 And ever, as their numbers thin, 
 Fresh spirits rush unbidden in, 
 Thoughtless, but how the meed to win 
 
 Of peril and of praise. 
 And still, as with a blacker shade 
 
 Fortune obscures the day, 
 Commingled thro 1 the fight they wade, 
 And hand to hand and blade to blade,
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAYERA. 43 
 
 Their blind and furious efforts braid, 
 As if, still dark and disarray'd, 
 
 They fought the midnight fray. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 In vain. New hopes and fresher force 
 Inspirit France, and urge her course, 
 A torrent, rapid, wild, and hoarse, 
 
 On Britain's wavering train. 
 As when, before the wintery skies, 
 The struggling forests sink and rise, 
 
 And rise and sink again, 
 While the gale scatters as it flies 
 
 Their ruins o'er the plain ; 
 Before the tempest of her foes, 
 So England sank, and England rose, 

 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 And, though still rooted in the vale, 
 Strewed her rent branches on the gale. 
 Then, Wellesley ! on thy tortured thought 
 With ripening hopes of glory fraught, 
 
 What honest anguish crost ! 
 Oh, how thy generous bosom burned, 
 To see the tide of victory turned, 
 
 And Spain and England lost ! 
 Lost but that, as the peril great 
 And rising with the storms of fate, 
 
 His rapid genius soars, 
 Sees, at a glance, his whole resource, 
 Drains from each stronger point its force, 
 
 And on the weaker pours : 
 Present where'er his soldiers bleed, 
 
 He rushes thro 1 the fray,
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 And, (so the doubtful chances need,) 
 In high emprize and desperate deed, 
 Squanders himself away ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Now from the summit, at his call, 
 
 A gallant legion firm and slow 
 Advances on victorious Gaul ; 
 Undaunted, though their comrades fall ! 
 
 Unshaken, though their leader's low ! 
 Fix'd as the high and buttressed mound 
 Which guards some leaguer'd city round, 
 They stand unmoved Behind them form 
 The scattered fragments of the storm ; 
 While on their sheltering front, amain 
 France drives, with all her thundering train,
 
 46 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Her full career of death : 
 But drives not long her full career, 
 For now, that living bulwark near, 
 Fault'ring between fatigue and fear 
 
 She stops and pants for breath : 
 That dubious pause, that wavering rest, 
 The Britons seize, and breast to breast 
 Opposing, havoc's arm arrest, 
 And from the foe's exulting crest, 
 
 Tear down the laurel wreath. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Nor does the gallant foe resign, 
 
 Even while his hopes and strength decline, 
 
 A tame inglorious prize ; 
 Long, long on Britain's rallied line
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 47 
 
 The deadly fire he plies ; 
 Long, long where Britain's banners shine 
 
 He vainly toils and dies ! 
 Ne'er to a battle's fiercer groan 
 
 Did mountain echo roar, 
 Nor ever evening blush upon 
 
 A redder field of gore. 
 But feebler now, and feebler still, 
 The panting French assail the hill, 
 And weaker grows their cannon's roar, 
 And thinner falls their missile shower, 
 
 Fainter their clanging steel ; 
 The hot and furious fit is o'er, 
 They shout they charge they stand no more 
 And staggering in the slippery gore, 
 
 Their very leaders reel.
 
 48 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But shooting high and rolling far, 
 What new and horrid face of war 
 
 Now flushes on the sight ? 
 Tis France, as furious she retires, 
 That wreaks, in desolating fires, 
 
 The vengeance of her flight. 
 Already parched by summer's sun, 
 The grassy vale the flames o'er-run ; 
 
 And, sweeping wreathed and light 
 Before the wind, the thickets seize, 
 And climb the dry and withered trees, 
 
 In flashes long and bright. 
 Oh ! "'twas a scene sublime and dire, 
 To see that billowy sea of fire, 
 
 Rolling its flaky tide '
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 49 
 
 O'er cultured field and tangled wood, 
 And drowning in the flaming flood 
 The seasons' hope and pride ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 From Talavera's wall and tower 
 
 And from the mountain's height, 
 Where they had stood for many an hour 
 
 To view the varying fight, 
 Burghers and peasants in amaze 
 Behold their groves and vineyards blaze : 
 Calm they had view'd the bloody fray, 
 
 And little thought that France's groan 
 And England's sigh, ere close of day, 
 
 Should mingle with their own ! 
 But ah ! far other cries than these 
 

 
 SO THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 Are wafted on the dismal breeze 
 Groans, not the wounded's lingering groan- 
 Shrieks, not the shriek of death alone- 
 But groan, and shriek, and yell, 
 Of terror, torture, and despair ; 
 Such as 'twould chill the heart to hear 
 
 And freeze the tongue to tell 
 When to the very field of fight, 
 Dreadful alike in sound and sight, 
 
 The conflagration spread, 
 Involving in its fiery wave 
 The brave and reliques of the brave 
 The dying and the dead ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And now again the evening sheds 
 Her dewy veil on Teio's side,
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 51 
 
 And from the Sierra's rocky heads 
 
 The giant shadows stride ; 
 And all is dim and dark again 
 Save here and there upon the plain, 
 
 Still flash the baleful fires, 
 Across the umber'd face of night 
 Casting a dull and flickering light, 
 
 As if from funeraZpyres. 
 But since the close of yester-e'en 
 How altered is the martial scene ! 
 Again, in night's surrounding veil, 
 
 France moves her busy bands but now 
 She comes not, venturous, to assail 
 The victors in their guarded vale, 
 
 Or on the mountain's brow 
 Dash'd from her triumph's windy car
 
 52 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 She mourns the wayward fate of war, 
 And baffled and disheartened, o'er 
 Alberche's stream and from his shore, 
 
 With silent haste she speeds, 
 Nor dares, eVn at that midnight hour, 
 
 To snatch the rest she needs ; 
 Far from the field where late she fought 
 
 The tents where late she lay 
 With rapid step and humbled thought, 
 
 All night she holds her way : 
 Leaving, to Britain's conquering sons, 
 Standards rent and ponderous guns, 
 
 The trophies of the fray ! 
 The weak, the wounded, and the slain 
 The triumph of the battle plain 
 
 The glory of the day !
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 53 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 I would not check the tender sigh, 
 
 Nor chide the pious tear, 
 That heaves the heart and dims the eye 
 
 For friend or kinsman dear ; 
 Ev'n when their honoured reliques lie 
 
 On victory's proudest bier ; 
 But I would say, for those that die 
 
 In honour's high career, 
 For those in glory's grave who sleep, 
 Weep fondly, but, exulting, weep ! 
 More freshly from the untimely tomb 
 Renown's eternal laurels bloom 
 
 With sullen cypress twined. 
 Fortune is fickle and unsure, 
 And worth and fame to be secure 
 
 Must be in death enshrin'd !
 
 54 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 xxxv. 
 
 I too have known what 'tis to part 
 With the first inmate of my heart 
 To feel the bonds of nature riven 
 
 To witness o'er the glowing dawn, 
 The spring of youth, the fire of heaven, 
 
 The grave's deep shadows drawn ! 
 He sleeps not on the gory plain 
 
 The slumber of the brave 
 Dear Victim of disease, and pain, 
 Where high Madeira's summits reign 
 
 Far o'er the Atlantic wave, 
 He sought eluding health in vain- 
 Health never lit his eye again, 
 
 He fills a foreign grave ! 
 Oh, had he lived, his hand to-day 
 
 Had woven for the victor's brow,
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 55 
 
 Such garland of immortal bay, 
 Such chaplet as the enraptured lay 
 
 Of genius may bestow ! 
 Or, since 'twas Heaven's severer doom 
 To snatch him to an earlier tomb 
 Would, Wellesley, would that he had died 
 Beneath thine eye and at thy side ! 
 It would have lightened sorrow's load, 
 Had thy applause on him bestow'd 
 
 The fame he loved in thee ; 
 And rear'd his honoured tomb beside 
 Those of the gallant hearts who died, 
 Their kinsmen's, friends', and country's pride, 
 
 In Talavera's victory! 


 
 ODE 
 
 SUNG AT THE DINNER GIVEN BY THE GENTLEMEN FROM 
 INDIA TO FIELD-MARSHAL THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, K.G. 
 MONDAY, JULY 11, 1814. 
 
 I. 
 
 VICTOE of Assayed orient plain ; 
 Victor of all the fields of Spain ; 
 Victor of France's despot reign ; 
 
 Thy task of glory done ! 
 Welcome ! from dangers greatly dared ; 
 From triumphs, with the vanquish'd shared ; 
 From nations saved, and nations spared ; 
 
 Unconquer'd Wellington !
 
 58 ODE. 
 
 II. 
 
 Unconyuer'd ! yet thy honours claim 
 A nobler, than a Conqueror's, name ; 
 At the red wreaths of guilty fame 
 
 Thy generous soul had blush'd : 
 The blood the tears the world has shed 
 . The throngs of mourners piles of dead 
 The grief the guilt are on his head, 
 The Tyrant thou hast crush'd. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thine was the sword which Justice draws ; 
 Thine was the pure and generous cause, 
 Of holy rites and human laws 
 The impious thrall to burst ;
 
 ODE. 59 
 
 And t hou wast destin'd for thy part ! 
 The noblest mind, the firmest heart, 
 Artless but in the warrior's art 
 And in that art, the first. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And WE, who in the eastern skies 
 Beheld thy Sun of glory rise, 
 Stall follow, with exulting eyes, 
 
 His proud Meridian height. 
 Late, on thy grateful country's breast, 
 Late, may that Sun descend to rest, 
 Beaming through all the glowing West 
 
 The memory of his light.
 
 WAR SONG. 
 
 1803. 
 
 WAVE, wave, the banners of the fight ; 
 Be every breast in armour dight, 
 
 And every soul on fire ! 
 To trembling Europe's frighted eyes, 
 Red let the sun of battle rise ; 
 And bloody be the morning skies 
 
 That bring the day of ire !
 
 62 WAR SONG. 
 
 Whose impious voice, from his dark cave 
 Wakes the destroyer of the brave ? 
 
 What hand prepares their tomb ? 
 'Tis He, Ambition's perjured sprite, 
 Tis He, that waves the flags of fight, 
 Tis He, in clouds of deadliest night, 
 
 Who weaves the warrior's doom. 
 
 Weep, weep, ye gentle dames of France, 
 Ye, whose devoted sons advance 
 
 To Britain's fatal shore : 
 O ! kiss their lips before ye part, 
 O ! press them to your bursting heart- 
 Save in a dream's convulsive start 
 
 Ye ne'er shall clasp them more.
 
 WAR SONG. 63 
 
 Arouse, arouse, ye British dames, 
 With words of fire, the patriot flames 
 
 That burn for glorious deed. 
 For him that lives, the raptured eye 
 Of love shall dance ! for those who die, 
 Their ladies 1 tears, their country's sigh, 
 
 Shall be the sacred meed !
 
 SONGS 
 
 TRAFALGAR. 
 
 1805. 
 
 I. 
 
 THOUGH I do love my country's weal 
 As well as any soul that breathes ; 
 
 Though more than filial pride I feel 
 
 To see her crown'd with conquering wreaths : 
 
 Yet from my heart do I deplore 
 
 Her recent triumphs on the main- 
 Those laurels dripping red with gore 
 That victory bought with NELSON slain.
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Oh ! dearest conquest, heaviest loss, 
 
 That England's hope and heart have known 
 
 Since first, in fight, her blood-red cross 
 O'er the great deep triumphant shone. 
 
 And she should wail that conquest dear, 
 And she that heavy loss should mourn ; 
 
 Hallow with sighs her Hero's bier, 
 And gem with tears her Hero's urn. 
 
 Shame on the wild and callous rout 
 That lights for joy its countless fires, 
 
 That hails the day with madd'ning shout, 
 While HE, who won the day, expires !
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 67 
 
 It was, indeed, a glorious day, 
 
 And every homage of the heart 
 Were just, that rescued realms can pay, 
 
 Had NELSON lived to share his part. 
 
 Had NELSON lived to hear our praise, 
 
 I too had hynui'd the victor's song ; 
 I too had lit the joyous blaze, 
 
 And wildly joined the exulting throng. 
 
 But HE is blind to pageant gay, 
 
 And he is deaf to joyous strain ; 
 And I will raise no pleasant lay, 
 
 And swell no pomp for NELSON slain.
 
 68 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 But I will commune with my mind, 
 To celebrate its darling Chief 
 
 What worthiest tribute it may find 
 Of soften'd pride, of tempered grief. 
 
 Ye good and great, 'tis yours to raise 
 The storied vase, the column tall, 
 
 Through every future age to praise 
 His life, and consecrate his fall : 
 
 Mine it will be, (oh ! would my tongue 
 Were gifted with immortal verse .') 
 
 To strew, with many a sorrowing song, 
 Parnassian cypress o'er his hearse.
 
 TRAFALGAR. 
 
 1805. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE fight was long ; and deep in blood 
 Britain's triumphant warriors stood : 
 High o'er the wave, untorn, unstain'd, 
 The ensigns of her glory reign'd : 
 Around, the wreck'd and vanquished pride 
 Of hostile navies strew'd the tide; 
 Or scatter'd, as the tempest bore, 
 Their ruins on the affrighted shore.
 
 70 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 The haughty hopes of France and Spain, 
 
 Had dreamed of conquest's laurel crown- 
 O ! vision, arrogant and vain ! 
 NELSON has swept them from the main, 
 
 And dash'd their airy trophies down : 
 Their fancied wreaths his brow adorn, 
 Won by his valour, in his triumph worn. 
 
 But, hark ! amidst the joyous shout, 
 For Spain's defeat, and France's rout : 
 But, hark ! amidst the glad acclaim 
 Of England's honour, NELSON'S fame, 
 What deep and sullen sounds arise ? 
 Are these, alas I victorious cries ? 
 Bode they a widow'd nation's woe ; 
 The triumph vain, and NELSON low ?
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR, 71 
 
 In his full glory's brightest blaze, 
 
 On the high summit of his deeds, 
 (While Victory's saintly halo plays, 
 With living fire,-4jnmortal rays, 
 
 Around his head,) the Hero bleeds ; 
 In pomp of death, to mortal eyes 
 Never before revealed, the Hero dies. 
 
 He dies ! but while on Egypt's strand 
 The Ptolomean tower shall stand ; 
 Stain'd with the turbid streams of Nile, 
 While seas shall beat Aboukir's isle ; 
 While the white ocean breaks and roars 
 On Trafalgar's immortal shores ; 
 While high St. Vincent's towery steep 
 And, giant of the Atlantic deep,
 
 72 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Dark Teneriffe, like beacons, guide 
 The wanderers of the western wave ; 
 
 Sublime shall stand, amid the tide 
 
 Of baffled Time, his country's pride 
 The sacred memory of the brave ; 
 
 And NELSON'S emulated name 
 Shine the proud sea-mark to the ports of Fame I
 
 TRAFALGAR. 
 
 1805. 
 
 III. 
 'TWAS at the close of that dark morn 
 
 On which our Hero, conquering, died, 
 That every seaman's heart was torn 
 
 By strife of sorrow and of pride ; 
 
 Of pride, that one short day would show 
 Deeds of eternal splendour done, 
 
 Full twenty hostile ensigns low, 
 
 And twenty glorious victories won
 
 74 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Of grief, of deepest, tenderest grief, 
 That He, on every sea and shore, 
 
 Their brave, beloved, unconquer'd Chief, 
 Should wave his victor-flag no more. 
 
 Sad was the eve of that dire day : 
 
 But direr, sadder was the night ; 
 
 When human rage had ceased the fray, 
 And elements maintaui'd the fight. 
 
 All shaken in the conflict past 
 
 The navies fear'd the tempest loud 
 
 The gale, that shook the groaning mast 
 
 The wave, that climb'd the tatter'd shroud.
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 75 
 
 By passing gleams of sullen light, 
 
 The worn and weary seamen view'd 
 
 The hard-earn'd prizes of the fight 
 
 Sink, foundering, in the midnight flood : 
 
 And oft, as drowning screams they heard, 
 And oft, as sank the ships around, 
 
 Some British vessel lost they fear'd, 
 
 And mourn'd some British brethren drown'd. 
 
 And oft they cried, (as memory rolTd 
 
 On Him, so late their hope and guide 
 
 But now a bloody corse and cold,) 
 
 ' Was it for this, that NELSOX died? 1
 
 76 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 For three short days, and three long nights, 
 They wrestled with the tempest's force; 
 
 And sank the trophies of their fights, 
 
 And 'thought upon that bloody corse I 
 
 But when the fairer morn arose 
 
 Bright o'er the yet-tumultuous main, 
 
 They saw no wreck but that of foes, 
 No ruin but of France and Spain : 
 
 And, victors now of winds and seas, 
 Beheld the British vessels brave 
 
 Breasting the ocean at their ease, 
 
 Like sea-birds on their native wave :
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 77 
 
 And now they cried, (because they found 
 Old England's fleet in all its pride, 
 
 While Spain's and France's hopes were drown'd,) 
 4 It was for this that NELSON died !' 
 
 to 
 
 He died, with many an hundred bold 
 And honest hearts as ever beat ! 
 
 But where's the British heart so cold 
 That would not die in such a feat ? 
 
 Yes ! by their memories ! by all 
 
 The honours which their tomb surround ! 
 Theirs was the noblest, happiest fall 
 
 Which ever mortal courage crown'd.
 
 78 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Then bear them to their glorious grave 
 
 With no weak tears, no woman's sighs 
 Theirs was the death-bed of the brave, 
 
 And manly be their obsequies I 
 
 . ft 
 
 Haul not your colours from on high, 
 
 Nor down the flags of victory lower : 
 
 Give every streamer to the sky, 
 
 Let all your conq'ring cannon roar ; 
 
 That every kindling soul may learn 
 How to resign its patriot breath ; 
 
 And from a grateful country, earn 
 
 The triumphs of a trophied death.
 
 TRAFALGAR. 
 
 1805. 
 
 IV. 
 
 REAR high the monumental stone ! 
 To other days, as to his own, 
 Belong the Hero's deathless deeds, 
 Who greatly lives, who bravely bleeds. 
 
 Not to a petty point of time 
 Or space, but wide to every clime 
 And age, his glorious fall bequeaths 
 Valour's sword, and victory's wreaths.
 
 80 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 The rude but pious care of yore 
 Heap'd o'er the brave the mounded shore ; 
 And still that mounded shore can tell 
 Where Hector and Pelides fell. 
 
 There, over glory's earthly bed, 
 When many a wasting age had fled, 
 The world's Great Victor pour'd his pray'rs 
 For fame, and monuments like theirs. 
 
 Happy the brave ! whose sacred tomb 
 Itself averts the oblivious doom, 
 Bears on its breast unfading bays, 
 And gives eternity of praise !
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 81 
 
 High, then, the monumental pile 
 Erect, for NELSON of the NILE ! 
 Of TEAFALGAB, and VINCENT'S heights, 
 For NELSON of the hundred fights 
 
 For Him, alike on shore and surge, 
 Of proud Iberia's power the scourge ; 
 And half around the sea-girt ball, 
 The hunter of the recreant Gaul. 
 
 Rear the tall shaft on some bold steep 
 Whose base is buried in the deep ; 
 But whose bright summit shines afar 
 O'er the blue ocean, like a star.
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Such let it be, as o'er the bed 
 Of Nilus rears its lonely head ; 
 Which never shook at mortal might, 
 Till NELSON lanced the bolts of fight. 
 
 (What time the ORIENT, wrapt in fire 
 Blazed, its own seamen's funeral pyre, 
 And, with explosive fury riven, 
 Sprang thundering to the midnight heaven.) 
 
 Around it, when the raven night 
 Shades ocean, fire the beacon-light ; 
 And let it, thro' the tempest, flame 
 The star of safety as of fame.
 
 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Thither, as o'er the deep below 
 The seaman seeks his country's foe, 
 His emulative eye shall roll, 
 And NELSON'S spirit fill his soul. 
 
 Thither, shall youthful heroes climb, 
 The NELSONS of an after-time, 
 And, round that sacred altar, swear 
 Such glory and such graves to share. 
 
 Raise then, imperial Britain, raise 
 The trophied pillar of his praise ; 
 And worthy be its towering pride, 
 Of those that live, of HIM that died !
 
 84 SONGS OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Worthy of NELSON of the NILE ! 
 Of NELSON of the cloud-capped Isle, 
 Of TRAFALGAR and VINCENT'S heights, 
 Of NELSON of the hundred fights !
 
 TO 
 
 HIM 
 
 WHO DESPAIRS OF SPAIN. 
 
 1S09. 
 
 DESPAIR OF SPAIN ! and dost thou dare 
 To talk, cold plodder, of despair ? 
 
 Dost thou presume to scan 
 The proud revenge, the deathless zeal, 
 The throes that injured nations feel, 
 
 Beneath the oppressor's ban ; 
 The pride, the spirit, and the power, 
 That, growing with the arduous hour, 
 
 Ennoble patriot man ?
 
 DESPAIR OF SPAIN. 
 
 O thou of little heart and hope, 
 Purblind diviner, can thy scope 
 
 Nothing but danger see ? 
 Unfrighted tho 1 with carnage strew'd, 
 Ev'n in her ruins unsubdued, 
 
 Great in adversity, 
 Do Saragossa and her train 
 Heroes and Saints survive in vain, 
 Shall they be told ' Despair of Spain/ 
 
 And told, alas ! by thee? 
 
 Oh, no ; tho' France's murderous hand 
 Should sweep the desolated land, 
 Revenge will still remain : 
 Smothered, but not extinguish'd quite,
 
 DESPAIR OF SPAIN. 87 
 
 A spark will live, in time will light, 
 
 And fire the length'ning train. 
 Stung by that pang which never dies, 
 Enthusiast millions shall arise, 
 And Europe echo to their cries, 
 NEVER DESPAIR OF SPAIN ! 
 
 found

 
 NOTES 
 
 THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 
 
 STANZA II. line I. France's chosen bands. 
 The force opposed to the allies comprised some of the 
 61ite of the French army. 
 
 St. II. 1. 2. He of the borrowed crown. 
 The borrowed Majesty of England.' 
 
 Shakspeare, King John. 
 
 Joseph (el Rey botilla) was in the field, and of course no- 
 minally commanding in chief; but he very prudently placed 
 himself opposite to the Spanish lines, where there was little 
 to do ; and, accordingly, we do not hear of him again, till 
 his gasconading proclamations from Saint Olalla, after his 
 retreat. 
 
 St. II. 1. 5.Talavera. 
 
 Talavera, '(called de la Reyna, because it was for some 
 time the appanage of the Queens of Spain,) is one of the most
 
 90 NOTES. 
 
 ancient cities of the monarchy. Though situated nearly in 
 the centre of the Peninsula, it has had the peculiar ill fortune 
 of suffering in all ages, and from all parties, the calamities of 
 war. Christians and Moors stormed and plundered it by 
 turns, and not an instance occurs of an hostile force failing 
 before it, till that one which I now attempt to describe. The 
 ramparts were very strong, constructed of immense blocks 
 of free-stone, and flanked, as it is said, with eighteen square 
 towers ; but the most ancient ramparts and towers have fallen 
 into a state of dilapidation. The inhabitants themselves, 
 indeed, have been more destructive even than Time, and, 
 to procure stones for the erection of dwelling-houses, ' have 
 * industriously pillaged the dismantled walls, and reduced to 
 an insignificant heap of stones all those stately fragments of 
 ' majesty and strength, which had so long been preserved in 
 ' Talavera as venerable monuments of its eventful history*.' 
 The gate of the western suburb has been rendered memo- 
 rable by a flagitious act of cruelty, committed in 1280, at 
 the instigation of Sancho the Brave. On that spot were 
 exposed to view the dissected limbs of 400 nobles of Tala- 
 vera, who had been put to death for their adherence to the 
 cause of the unfortunate family of La Cerda, against a suc- 
 cessful usurper. This action is yet commemorated in the 
 name of Puerto de Quartos. Talavera is now a considerable 
 
 . 
 * Laborde's View of Spain.
 
 NOTES. 91 
 
 and opulent city, and must have been very populous even in 
 128p, since it could furnish 40O noble victims of one party. 
 
 k &Mi.uil.h 
 
 St. II. 1. 13. St. James. 
 
 St. James, or Saint Jago, is the Patron Saint of Spain. 
 The shrine at Compostella, on the site of which the Apostle's 
 body was miraculously discovered in 800, became famous 
 throughout Europe, and was for many ages the peculiar 
 object of the liberality of the rich, and of the pilgrimages of 
 the poor of all nations. In the year 1434, no less than 2460 
 English had license from the King to proceed thither, with 
 considerable sums of money, as well for offerings as for their 
 necessary expenses. 
 
 When Almanzor, the Moorish King of Seville, ravaged 
 Gallicia, the divine interposition preserved, by a miraculous 
 storm of lightning, the temple of Compostella from plunder 
 and profanation. Is it too much to hope that the vengeance 
 of Heaven may yet, in our days, visit invaders more rapacious, 
 more cruel, more impious, than the Moors ! 
 
 St. III. 1. 20. Thrice come they on. 
 
 I have taken the liberty of representing the three attacks 
 on General Hill's position to have been all made about mid- 
 night, and in immediate succession, though, in fact, the first 
 occurred late in the evening, the second only at midnight, 
 and the third about day-break on the 28th.
 
 92 NOTES. 
 
 St. IV. 1. 2. Promiscuous death. 
 
 It is certain that in the confusion of the night-fight, much 
 loss was occasioned on both parts, by mistaking friends for 
 foes. 
 
 St. IV. 1. Q. The Bard's enthusiast lay. 
 
 sed omnes illacrimabiles 
 
 Urguentur ignotique longa 
 Node, carent quia vate sacro. 
 
 Hor. Od. 9, lib. 4. 
 r- . -!>* '' ;<-*: iV.-i. ^<|\f. 
 St. IV. 1. 12. Oh for a blaze. 
 
 A young and accomplished lady has discovered, as she 
 fancies, a resemblance between the description of this night- 
 fight, and that of the encounter of Tancred and Clorinda in 
 the Gierusalemme Liberata. I am very far from agreeing with 
 my fair critic in this notion, and any of my readers, who shall 
 turn to the fifty-fourth and subsequent stanzas of the twelfth 
 canto of the Jerusalem, will have the satisfaction, (not, I 
 think, of detecting me in a presumptuous and unacknowledged 
 imitation of Tasso,) but of reading one of the most striking 
 passages of that splendid poem. 
 
 St. VI. 1. 23. Fifty thousand warriors. 
 The French acknowledge to have had 45,000 men engaged, 
 and we know that the effective British scarcely, if at all, 
 exceeded 20,000.
 
 NOTES. 93 
 
 %* Since these pages were first published, there have 
 appeared in the Moniteur of Sept. 28, 1809, notes on Lord 
 Wellington's dispatches, which admit the disparity to have 
 been still greater than the most sanguine Englishman had 
 thought than even ice romancers had imagined. 
 
 They state the army which attacked Lord Wellesley, (as 
 they call him,) to have consisted of the 1st and 4th corps, 
 and the reserve ; and their force they allege to have been, 
 the 1st corps, 36 battalions ; the 4th, 30 battalions ; and the 
 reserve, 20 battalions, exclusive of the cavalry, which was 
 40 squadrons. Now these 86 battalions, if complete, would 
 have numbered about 6o,OOO infantry ; and even if but half 
 complete, would have exceeded Lord Wellington's force, 
 (which they admit to have been but 20,OOO) by 10,OOO of 
 infantry alone, or, reckoning the cavalry, by 14,000 men. 
 But, in fact, they may be taken at 500 men to each battalion 
 at least, that is, in the whole, at 43,000 infantry, and about 
 4,OOO cavalry. 1810. 
 
 It is now known, that the French force consisted of about 
 50,000 men. 1812. 
 
 St. VIII. 1. 6. Cold allies. 
 
 The government and generals of Spain, at the period of 
 the battle of Talavera, were more than usually tardy and 
 feeble in all their measures. After the battle, Sir A. Wel- 
 lesley was disabled from pursuing his advantages, and (when
 
 94 NOTES. 
 
 he was obliged, by General Cuesta's extraordinary conduct, 
 to retreat,) his army was almost exhausted, for want of those 
 means of transport which the Spanish authorities had libe- 
 rally promised him, and which, in fact, they could have 
 furnished in sufficient abundance. While the guns taken at 
 Talavera were in the possession cf the English, the Spanish 
 General could not be induced to afford the means of drawing 
 them ; but when, on this account, the English were forced to 
 abandon them, the Spaniards easily found cattle for their 
 conveyance. So, when the British army laid down its am- 
 munition for want of means to carry it, the Spaniards found 
 no difficulty in bringing it away for their own use*. The 
 correspondence between Sir A. Wellesley, Lord Wellesley, 
 and M. de Garay, in 1809, afford many similar proofs of the 
 coldness of the government of our allies ; though it is now 
 clear that it did not exist (as Sir J. Moore seems to have 
 supposed) in all classes : the lower orders, and not a few of 
 the higher, have all along exhibited irrefragable proofs of the 
 warmest enthusiasm, and the most patriotic devotion. There 
 have been, and there still are, a great number of persons in 
 Spain, who, to say the best of them, are inclined to temporize; 
 and too many of this class have found means to influence the 
 national operations. In spite of them, however, the spirit 
 of the people may save their country ; and I shall not despair, 
 
 * Papers presented to Parliament, 1810, p. 545.
 
 NOTES. 95 
 
 however ' Princes and Lords may flourish or may fade,' of 
 the cause of Spain, till ' the bold peasantry, its country's 
 pride,' shall have passed under the usurper's yoke. 
 
 St. VIII. 1. 14. The agony of fame. 
 
 This expression, and another in the last line of the XXVIIth 
 Stanza, are borrowed from a splendid passage of Mr. Burke's, 
 in which, speaking of Lord Keppel, he says, * With what 
 
 * zeal and anxious affection I attended him through his trial, 
 
 * that agony of his glory with what prodigality I squandered 
 
 * myself in courting almost every sort of enmity for his sake,' 
 &c. Burke's Works, v. 8, p. 54. 
 
 St. VHI. 1. 21. Factious spite. 
 
 The calumniators of Sir Arthur Wellesley have been so 
 industrious in publishing their malignity, that it is unneces- 
 sary to recal to the public observation any particular instance 
 of it. In reading their base absurdities, one cannot but 
 recollect the expression of Marshal Villars (I think it was) 
 to Lewis XIV. ' Sire, je vais combattre vos ennemis, & je 
 vous laisse au milieu des miens.' Sir Arthur, much worse 
 treated than M. de Villars, says nothing about it, but beats 
 his country's enemies, and despises his own. 
 
 St. XIV. 1. I. But, tyrant, MOM. 
 With all the reluctance which one must feel to charge with
 
 96 NOTES. 
 
 atrocious crimes, a man whose talents (not always ill em- 
 ployed) have raised him to the highest station and power 
 that any human being ever attained, it is yet impossible 
 to think of his cruel and unprovoked attack on the 
 Spanish crown and people without indignation without 
 feeling, that Divine Justice must charge to his account, all 
 the ruin by fire, famine, and the sword, which his unparal- 
 leled injustice has visited upon that unhappy country. 
 
 St. XIV. 1. 23. The murder'd heir of Bourbon. 
 The seizing the Duke D'Enghien in a neutral state, 
 dragging him to a tribunal to which he was, in no view, 
 amenable, condemning him by laws to which he owed no 
 obedience, and finally, putting him to death by a hasty and 
 cowardly execution by torch-light, are stains on Buonaparte's 
 character, of such violence, injustice, and cruelty, as no 
 good fortune, no talents, no splendour of power, or even of 
 merit, can ever obliterate. 
 
 St. XV. 1. 1 .Self inflicted pang. 
 .. Cur tamen hos tu 
 
 Evasisse putes, quos, diri conscia facti, 
 Mens habet attonitos, et surdo verbere caedit, 
 Occultum quatiente animo tortore flagellum ? 
 
 Juvenal, Sat. 13.
 
 NOTES. 97 
 
 St. XV. 1. 11. Spain erect and proud. 
 
 The author has feared to indulge any very sanguine hope 
 of the final success of the Spanish cause, particularly since 
 the retreat of the French from Madrid, and behind the Ebro, 
 was turned to so little solid advantage by the Spaniards. 
 But that their efforts and their example in a great degree 
 have already crippled and distracted the power of France, 
 and afforded a considerable chance for the emancipation of 
 Europe ; that the victories of Baylen and Talavera, the de- 
 fence of Saragossa and Gerona, have been of one great 
 advantage (exclusively of any other) in dissipating the spell 
 of French invincibility, cannot be denied. Undoubtedly 
 Buonaparte will come out of the Spanish contest, even though 
 he should finally succeed in placing his brother on the throne, 
 with diminished reputation and more precarious power. It 
 is singular that in the succession war, a century ago, the 
 French were obliged in -like manner to retire from Madrid 
 behind the Ebro, and that the negligence of the other party, 
 in not dislodging them from that position, eventually placed 
 the French competitor on the throne of Spain. See Carleton's 
 Memoirs. 180g. 
 
 It is now upwards of two years since this note was written, 
 and it must be confessed that the French cause is not now, to 
 all appearance, in so promising a condition as it was then. 
 Hopes that the author once considered as too sanguine, have 
 been more than realized, and the final deliverance of Spain
 
 98 NOTES. 
 
 from the atrocious usurpation of France, seems every hour 
 less improbable. 1812. 
 
 St. XVII. 1. 12. Leopards. 
 
 This is an image which Buonaparte himself has chosen to 
 use : ' When I shall shew myselP (said his speech to the 
 Legislative Body, in Dec. 1809), ' beyond the Pyrenees, 
 ' the frightened leopard will fly to the ocean to avoid shame* 
 ' defeat, and death.' This is bold ; what follows might well 
 be called by the coarser epithet which Doctor Bentley ap- 
 plied to the imitator of Pindar ' The triumph of my arms 
 
 * will be the triumph of the genius of good over that of evil ; 
 
 * of moderation, order, and morality, over civil war, anarchy, 
 
 * and the bad passions ! ! ! My friendship and protection 
 ' will, I hope, restore tranquillity and happiness to the people 
 ' of the Spains ! ! !' 
 
 .St. XVIII. 1. 3. Ind's unequal war. 
 
 At Assaye, on the third of September, 18O3, with 2,000 
 Europeans, and 2,5OO native troops, Sir Arthur Wellesley 
 utterly defeated the united armies of Scindia and the Rajah 
 of Berar, amounting to 20,OOO cavalry, and at least 11,000 
 infantry, strongly posted, furnished with a formidable and 
 well served train of artillery, (all taken,) and officered in a 
 great degree by Frenchmen. On the 30th Nov. he again 
 came up with the recruited and reinforced armies of these
 
 NOTES. 99 
 
 princes in the plains of Argaum, and again totally routed 
 them, taking thirty-eight pieces of cannon. Without enter- 
 ing into further detail, it may be enough to say, that the 
 whole campaign was a master-piece of courage and conduct, 
 crowned with the most brilliant and decisive successes. 
 
 St. XIX. 1. 5. Of Leon and Castile. 
 
 The national flag of Spain bears, per pale, Luna, a lion 
 rampant, Saturn, for Leon ; and Mars, a castle, Sol, for 
 Castile. 
 
 St. XIX. 1. 8. To Wellesley's eyes as pervious as the air. 
 
 The sagacity with which Sir A. Wellesley always foresaw 
 the enemy's point of attack, and prepared means of repelling 
 it, was very remarkable. Those modest gentlemen in Eng- 
 land, who undervalue his military abilities, are obliged, 
 (though unintentionally I dare say, ) to deny at the same time 
 those of their friends the French, who admit that the English 
 position was excellently chosen, and obstinately defended : 
 but indeed this admission was superfluous ; for the perse- 
 verance with which they assailed it, sufficiently proves how 
 important they thought it ! Let it never be forgotten, that 
 this position, five times at least attacked with more than 
 double forces by some of the best generals and troops of 
 France, was found to be impregnable. But what are the 
 opinions of the French marshals, or even the evidence of
 
 100 JWTES. 
 
 facts, to the speculations of the tacticians of the Morning 
 Chronicle. 
 
 St. XIX. 1. 12. Strong covert. 
 
 1 The right, consisting of Spanish troops, extended imme- 
 ' diately in front of the town of Talavera, down to the Tagus. 
 ' This part of the ground was covered by olive-trees, and 
 
 * much intersected by banks and ditches. The high road 
 1 leading from the bridge over the Alberche, was defended 
 ' by a heavy battery, in front of a church, which was occu- 
 
 * pied by Spanish infantry. All the avenues to the town 
 
 * were defended in a similar manner ; the town was occupied, 
 
 * and the remainder of the Spanish infantry was formed in 
 
 * two lines behind the banks on the roads which led from the 
 ' town, and the right to the left of our position. ' 
 
 Sir A. Wellesley's dispatch. Gazette, Aug. 15, 1809- 
 
 St. XIX. 1. 18. Commanding height. 
 
 Had the French succeeded in carrying that height on 
 which General Hill's brigade alone was at first posted, but 
 towards which Sir Arthur afterwards moved several other 
 regiments, nothing, it is thought, could have saved the British 
 and Spanish armies from an entire defeat. 
 
 St. XX. 1. 8. Three columns. 
 Many of the circumstances of this and the next Stanza are
 
 NOTES. 101 
 
 taken from an excellent letter from an officer of the 48th to 
 his friend in Dublin, which was published in the Freeman's 
 Journal, of that city, of the IQth August, 1809- 
 
 St. XXI. 1. 7 As upon the sea-beat sand. 
 The fair critic, (whom I have before mentioned as accus- 
 ing me of borrowing from Tasso, ) has discovered, that for 
 this image I am indebted to Homer; and to this latter charge 
 I believe I must plead guilty, as well as to the still greater 
 offence of miserably deteriorating what I have stolen : but 
 the first of these faults was unintentional, and I need scarcely 
 say that the second was inevitable. 
 
 *O<rr' s-ntsl oox WOJIJ 
 A^ aW^ ffvvs^svs OTO<nv xa ^(sptriy, dQupwv. 
 
 Iliad, XV. 362. 
 
 St. XXI. 1 . 32. Langworth, and Albuquerque, and Payne. 
 
 General Baron Langworth, (who unfortunately, but glori- 
 ously fell, ) commanded the German cavalry. The duke of 
 Albuquerque was of considerable service with his corps of 
 Spanish horse, and Generals Payne and Anson commanded 
 the British cavalry. These troops brought off the remains 
 of the 23d dragoons, who, in a charge headed by Colonel 
 Seymour, had gotten entangled in a ravine and deep ditches,
 
 102 NOTES. 
 
 and were in danger of being entirely destroyed. They be- 
 haved with great gallantry, but suffered a considerable loss, 
 having however had the satisfaction of baffling Victor's (the 
 duke of Belluno) attempt on General Hill's position. 
 
 St. XXII. XXIII. and XXIV. 
 
 These three stanzas have been added since the seventh 
 edition. With the interesting circumstances which they at- 
 tempt to describe, I was not acquainted when the poem was 
 originally written. They were indeed, I believe, first made 
 known to the public in a most impressive speech delivered 
 in the House of Commons, early in the last session, by Lord 
 Viscount Castlereagh ; and I have only to regret, that I have 
 not been more successful in my endeavour to preserve, in my 
 stanzas, the interest and animation of his Lordship's eloquent 
 description. 1811. 
 
 St. XXIII. 1. 14. The Champion of Bitar. 
 The famous Cid, Ruy Bias of Bivar, the Campeador. 
 
 St. XXIV. 1. 28. Grasp of manly hands. 
 It is delightful to think that this incident, so interesting, 
 and.in modern times so unusual, is strictly true. 
 
 St. XXV. 1. 13. On the centre. 
 The repulse of Victor by the dragoons was followed by a
 
 NOTES. 103 
 
 general attack on the centre and right of the British line, 
 which was every where gallantly repulsed ; but the action 
 was severest towards the left of the centre, where General 
 Sherbrook commanded : it was there that the gallant impe- 
 tuosity of the Guards for a moment endangered the victory, 
 and with the description of this principal attack the text is 
 chiefly occupied. 
 
 St. XXVIII. 1. 18. The tide of victory turned. 
 It is not to be denied, that at this moment the fate of the 
 day was something worse than doubtful ; but Sir Arthur, as 
 soon as he saw the advance of the Guards, anticipated the 
 result, and moved other troops (among the rest the 48th 
 regiment) from the heights into the plain, to cover the re- 
 treat, which took place as he expected. 
 
 St. XXVIII. 1. last. Squanders himself away. 
 See the note in Stanza VII. 1. 14. Towards the close of 
 the action, Sir A. Wellesley was struck by two balls, (but 
 without injury,) and two of his aid-de-camps were wounded 
 at his side. On this occasion his personal exertions and 
 peril seemed necessary to retrieve the victory. 
 
 St. XXIX. 1. 2. A gallant legion. 
 
 The 48th regiment, by whose coolness and courage (and 
 both were severely tried) the Guards were enabled to form
 
 104 NOTES. 
 
 again. Col. Donellan was unfortunately severely wounded 
 at the head of this gallant corps. 1 809- 
 
 This wound was mortal. This good and gallant man now 
 ' sleeps the slumber of the brave.' 1810. 
 
 St. XXX. 1. 7. He vainly toils and dies. 
 I have lately observed that this line is almost literally 
 borrowed from a description of circumstances nearly similar 
 in Marmion.' 
 
 ' While yet on Flodden side, 
 ' Afar, the royal standard flies, 
 ' And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies, 
 
 1 Our Caledonian pride.' Cant. IV. St. XXXIII. 
 I have so many other and greater obligations to the author 
 of ' Marmion/ that I should hardly have thought it worth 
 while to notice this involuntary plagiarism, but that, by doing 
 so, I obtain an opportunity of publicly acknowledging these 
 obligations, and of expressing my humble, but most sincere 
 admiration of the vigour, originality, and splendour, which 
 distinguish, from all the other works of our day, the delight- 
 ful poems of Mr. Scott. 
 
 I have just noticed also, that the second line of the XlXth 
 Stanza is copied verbatim from Marmion. 
 
 St. XXXI. 1. 5.DesolatingJires. 
 This circumstance is mentioned in private letters ; but not
 
 NOTES. 105 
 
 that the French set fire to the field designedly : it would 
 rather seem that the accidental bursting of their shells in the 
 dry grass occasioned this conflagration, which ravaged a 
 great extent of ground, and entirely consumed many of the 
 dead, and (horrid to relate!) some of the wounded. This 
 must have been a new and striking feature of war. 
 
 St. XXXIII. 1. 14. France moves her busy bands. 
 Immediately after the repulse of their general attack, the 
 French began to retire ; which they did in good order ; and 
 during the night effected their retreat towards Santa Olalla, 
 leaving in the hands of the British 20 pieces of cannon, 
 ammunition, tumbrils, and prisoners. 
 
 St. XXXIII. 1. 18. Windy car. 
 f Ventoso gloria curru.' 
 
 St. XXXIII. 1. 34. Glory of the day. 
 
 If, says an eloquent writer in the Quarterly Revrew, we 
 
 cherished, informer circumstances of the war, a hope of the 
 
 success of our efforts for the assistance of Spain, and of her 
 
 final deliverance, ' We own \ve cannot consent to abandon 
 
 * it notv, when such a day as that of Talavera has re-esta- 
 
 * Wished, in its old and romantic proportion, the relative scale 
 
 * of British and French prowess ; when an achievement, the 
 f recital of which is alone sufficient to shame despondency,
 
 106 NOTES. 
 
 * and to give animation to hope, has not only inspired us with 
 
 * fresh confidence in ourselves, but, by infusing into our allies 
 ' a portion of that confidence, has furnished them with new 
 ' means and new motives for exertion.' 
 
 Quarterly Review, No. III. p. 234. 
 
 St. XXXIV. 1. 18. 
 For those that die 
 
 In honour s high career. 
 
 I lament exceedingly that my plan and limits did not per- 
 mit me to pay to those distinguished officers who fell in this 
 action the tribute they individually deserved but it is to be 
 hoped that the Country will show its sense of their glorious 
 services and fall by a public monument. 
 
 St. XXXV. 
 
 The author's brother died a few months before the publi- 
 cation of this poem, at the age of twenty-two ; at the moment 
 when he, who had ever been a source of happiness to his 
 family, was become its ornament and support, and had just 
 entered on public life, with (for a person of his level) the 
 fairest prospects, and under the happiest auspices.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 WAR SONG. Page 6]. 
 
 These stanzas were written and published at the breaking 
 out of the present war, when, it will be recollected, the 
 enemy's threats of invasion were not altogether despised io 
 this country. Some of my readers will possibly observe, 
 that the style and metre of this trifle are not very dissimilar 
 from those which have been more lately used by some popular 
 writers. I have therefore thought it necessary to state that 
 it was published early in 1803 but the truth is, that the 
 practice of breaking the regular eight syllable verse into 
 distichs or ternaries, by shorter lines, is very ancient in 
 English poetry. The Chester Mysteries, written in 1328, 
 exhibit this metre in a tolerably perfect state. After a long 
 disuse, it is indebted for its revival and popularity to the 
 good taste and extraordinary talents of Mr. Scott; and I 
 cannot but think that it is, in his hands, one of the most 
 harmonious and delightful of our English measures : to my 
 ear, indeed, the versification of Marmion, in which Mr. Scott 
 has used this style very freely, is more agreeable than that 
 of the Lady of the Lake, in which he has employed it mof e 
 sparingly. 1812.
 
 108 NOTES. 
 
 ILSONG OF TRAFALGAR. Page 69. 
 
 St. III. 1. 4. Aboukir s Isle. 
 
 The western point of Aboukir Bay is formed by an island, 
 now called in our charts, Nelson's Island. 
 
 On this island probably, and the adjoining peninsula, stood 
 the ancient Canopus, both being, to this day, covered with 
 ruins, supposed to be those of that celebrated city. 
 
 This, I am inclined to think, is the Canopic Island known 
 to all antiquity, and in later times called the Island Aboukir. 
 (Eutvchius, Ann. 2. 508.) This would account for the 
 testimony given by Pliny, Strabo, &c. as to the insular si- 
 tuation of Canopus, and by Scylax, as to an island in the 
 Canopic mouth, without having recourse to the supposition 
 that the Isthmus, somewhere between Alexandria and Aboukir 
 castle, had been covered by the sea, which indeed seems 
 rather to have encroached upon, than receded from, that 
 part of the coast. 
 
 St. III. L 7. St. Vincent's towery steep. 
 On the summit of St. Vincent's, and close on the precipices 
 which overhang the sea, is a convent, which gives the name 
 of its patron to the Cape. 
 
 HI. SONG OF TRAFALGAR. Page 73. 
 
 St. II. 1. 3. Twenty hostile ensigns l<yui. 
 Such was the statement of the London Gazette, of the
 
 NOTES. 109 
 
 27th Nov. 1805 ; but in a subsequent number this was noticed 
 as an error, there being, in fact, but nineteen sail of the line 
 taken or utterly destroyed. I have been assured by a gen- 
 tleman who was at that period in Germany, that this instance 
 of the scrupulous veracity of the British government pro- 
 duced an effect little less favourable to the British character 
 than the news of the victory itself. 
 
 I hope, however, that I may be forgiven for adhering to the 
 first report, particularly as these lines were written on the 
 day I first heard of the battle, and before the corrected state- 
 ment came to my knowledge. 
 
 It was a striking proof of Lord Nelson's almost miraculous 
 sagacity, that just at the commencement of the action, he 
 expressed his opinion that twenty sail of the enemy would 
 be taken.. 
 
 St. XVI. 
 Haul not your colour from on high, 
 
 Nor doivn thejlags of victory lower : 
 Give every streamer to the sky, 
 
 Let all your conquering cannon roari 
 ' If any flag-officer shall die in actual service, his flag shall 
 ' be lowered half-mast, and shall continue so till he is buried ; 
 ' and -at his funeral the commanding officer present shall 
 
 * direct such a number of minute-guns, not exceeding twenty- 
 
 * five, as he may think proper, to be fired by every ship.' 
 
 Naval Instructions, chap. 2, sec. 26.
 
 110 NOTES. 
 
 These lines were written before the intentions of govern- 
 ment as to the hero's funeral were known, or probably had 
 been fixed ; but I could not refrain from expressing my hope 
 that the usual cold and penurious ceremonies should not 
 disgrace an occasion so infinitely removed from, and above 
 all precedent ; or that the grief of the navy and the nation 
 should be directed by chapter and section, and attested by 
 twenty-five minute-guns, and no more ! After all, the funeral 
 did no great credit to our national taste; and I could wish, 
 that the only memorial of it which remains, I mean the pitiful 
 and trumpery car on which the body was carried, were re- 
 turned from the Painted Hall at Greenwich, which it dis- 
 graces, to the repository of the undertaker who built it. 
 Shabby and tasteless as it originally was, it is now much 
 worse ; for whatever was costly about it has been removed, 
 (particularly the plumes,) and cheap second hand finery 
 substituted instead. To this almost incredible meanness is 
 added that of shewing this wretched vamped-up vehicle to 
 the visitors at Greenwich at threepence each ! ! ! 
 
 IF. SONG OF TRAFALGAR. Page 79. 
 
 Line 15. The world's great victor. 
 
 It is perhaps scarcely necessary to say, that 1 here allude 
 to the famous visit of Alexander the Great to the tomb of 
 Achilles.
 
 NOTES. Ill 
 
 Line 34. 
 
 Such let it be, as o'er the bed 
 
 Of Nilus rears its lonely head. 
 
 The famous pillar, commonly called Pompey's, but stated, 
 with such ostentation of accuracy by all the French scjavans, 
 to have been erected in honour of Septimius Severus. The 
 ingenuity and industry, however, of two British officers, 
 Capt. Duncan, of the royal engineers, and Lieut. De Sade, 
 of the Queen's German regiment, have recovered the inscrip- 
 tion on this celebrated column, which attests that it was 
 erected and dedicated to Diocletian by Pontius, prefect of 
 Egypt. 
 
 Line 4Q. Thither shall youthful heroes climb. 
 This and some other passages, (in these songs of Trafalgar,) 
 so much resemble some thoughts in the vigorous and beau- 
 tiful verses entitled, ' Ulni and Trafalgar,' that it is necessary 
 for me to say that the former were written and published in 
 Ireland in Nov. 1805, and that it was not until a very consider- 
 able time after, that I had the pleasure of reading the latter, 
 which were printed in London early, I believe, in 1806. 
 I should also add, that I think it highly improbable that my 
 little publication could have reached the author of ' Ulm 
 ' and Trafalgar,' before his poem appeared : so that whatever 
 coincidence there may be is purely accidental. I cannot 
 but confess that I have thought much the better of my own
 
 1 12 NOTES. 
 
 lines since I have discovered them to have any resemblance 
 to his, though I am aware that upon every body else a con- 
 trary effect will be produced, and that nothing can be more 
 unfavourable to me than any thing like a comparison be- 
 tween us. 
 
 DESPAIR OF SPJIN. 
 
 Line 11. 
 
 can thy scope 
 
 Nothing but danger see ? . 
 
 These verses were prompted by the indignation which I 
 felt and feel at the unbritish language of those who tremble, 
 or affect to tremble, for the safety of England, who prophesy 
 the subjugation of Spain, and trumpet forth the invincibility 
 of Bonaparte. It may be weakness, it may be ignorance, 
 which prompts such expressions ; it may be. a sincere, 
 though shameful conviction of the vanity of opposing 
 France ; but, whatever be its source, such conduct appears 
 to be a most potent auxiliary to the common enemy of 
 Europe, and very little short of treason against the liberties 
 of mankind. 181O. 
 
 Line 16. Saragassa. 
 
 The defence of this city, in 1809, by its gallant inhabitants, 
 under their heroic leader, Don Josef Palafox, is one of the 
 most splendid and extraordinary events of modern times ; 
 and if any one of my readers shall not have set- n the narrative
 
 NOTES. 113 
 
 of the siege published by Mr. Vaughan, I cannot (though 
 the subject is, in some degree, gone by) but recommend it 
 to his perusal, as a valuable record ' of an event which 
 
 * teaches so forcibly the resources of patriotism and cou- 
 
 * rage ;' and of an example which ought not to be lost to 
 the world. 
 
 Line 17. Heroes and saints. 
 ' One character which developed itself during the siege of 
 
 * Zaragoza, must not be overlooked in this narrative. In 
 
 * every part of the town where the danger was most immi- 
 ' nent, and the French the most numerous, was Padre St. 
 
 * Jago Sass, curate of a parish of Zaragoza. As General 
 ' Palafox made his rounds through the city, he often beheld 
 ' Sass alternately playing the part of a priest and a soldier; 
 ' sometimes administering the sacrament to the dying, and 
 ' at others fighting in the most determined manner against 
 ' the enemies of his country : from his energy of character 
 and uncommon bravery, the Commander in Chief reposed 
 ' the utmost confidence in him during the siege ; wherever 
 any thing difficult or hazardous was to be done, Sass was 
 ' selected for its execution ; and the introduction of a supply 
 of powder, so t^entially necessary to the defence of the 
 ' town, was effected in the most complete ,hanner by this 
 ' clergyman, at the head of forty of the bravest men in 
 ' Zaragoza. He was found so serviceable in inspiring the 
 
 i
 
 114 NOTES. 
 
 ' people with religious sentiments, and in leading them on 
 * to danger, that the general has placed him in a situation 
 ' where both his piety and courage may continue to be as 
 < useful as before ; and he is now both captain in the 
 ' army, and chaplain to the Commander in Chief.* 
 
 Vaughan's Narrative.
 
 T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
 Whitefriars, London.
 
 THE 
 
 FIELD OF WATERLOO; 
 
 A POEM.
 
 THE 
 
 FIELD 
 
 OF 
 
 WATERLOO; 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER SCOTT, ESQ. 
 
 Though Palais braved young Edward's gentle hand, 
 
 And Albret rush'd on Henry's way-worn band, 
 
 With Europe's chosen sons in arms renown'd, 
 
 Yet not on Fere's bold archers long they look'd, 
 
 Nor Dudley's squires nor Mowbray s yeomen brook'd, 
 
 They taw their standard fall, and left their monarch bound. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 Printed by James Ballantyne fy Co. 
 
 FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH ; AND 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 
 AND JOHN MURRAY, LONDON. 
 
 1815.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It may be some apology for the imperfections of this 
 Poem, that it was composed hastily, during a short 
 tour upon the continent, when the Authors labours were 
 liable to frequent interruption. But its best -(.indication 
 is, that it was written for the purpose of assisting the 
 Waterloo Subscription.
 
 THE 
 
 FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 FAIR Brussels, thou art far behind, 
 Though, lingering on the morning wind, 
 
 We yet may hear the hour 
 Peal'd over orchard and canal, 
 With voice prolong'd and measured fall, 
 
 From proud Saint Michael's tower. 
 Thy wood, dark Soignies, holds us now, 
 Where the tall beeches' glossy bough 
 
 For many a league around,
 
 194 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 With birch and darksome oak between. 
 Spreads deep and far a pathless screen, 
 
 Of tangled forest ground. 
 Stems planted close by stems defy 
 The adventurous foot the curious eye 
 
 For access seeks in vain ; 
 And the brown tapestry of leaves, 
 StreVd on the blighted ground, receive! 
 
 Nor sun, nor air, nor rain. 
 No opening glade dawns on our way, 
 No streamlet, glancing to the ray, 
 
 Our woodland path has cross'd ; 
 And the straight causeway which we tread, 
 Prolongs a line of dull arcade, 
 Unvarying through the unvaried shade 
 
 Until in distance lost.
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 195 
 
 II. 
 
 A brighter, livelier scene succeeds ; 
 In groupes the scattering wood recedes, 
 Hedge-rows, and huts, and sunny meads, 
 
 And corn-fields glance between ; 
 The peasant, at his labour blithe, 
 Plies the hook'd staff and shorten'd scythe : 
 
 But when these ears were green, 
 Placed close within destruction's scope, 
 Full little was that rustic's hope 
 
 Their ripening to have seen ! 
 And, lo, a hamlet and its fane : 
 Let not the gazer with disdain 
 
 Their architecture view ; 
 For yonder rude ungraceful shrine, 
 And disproportion'd spire, are thine, 
 
 Immortal WATERLOO !
 
 195 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 III. 
 
 Fear not the heat, though full and high 
 The sun has scorch 5 d the autumn sky, 
 And scarce a forest straggler now 
 To shade us spreads a greenwood bough 
 These fields have seen a hotter day 
 Than e'er was fired by sunny ray. 
 Yet one mile on yon shattered hedge 
 Crests the soft hill whose long smooth ridge 
 
 Looks on the field below, 
 And sinks so gently on the dale, 
 That not the folds of Beauty's veil 
 
 In easier curves can flow. 
 Brief space from thence, the ground again 
 Ascending slowly from the plain, 
 
 Forms an opposing screen,
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 19*7 
 
 Which, with its crest of upland ground, 
 Shuts the horizon all around. 
 
 The soften'd vale between 
 Slopes smooth and fair for courser's tread ; 
 Not the most timid maid need dread 
 To give her snow-white palfrey head 
 
 On that wide stubble-ground ; 
 Nor wood, nor tree, nor bush are there. 
 Her course to intercept or scare, 
 
 Nor fosse nor fence are found, 
 Save where, from out her shatter'd bowers, 
 Rise Hougoumont's dismantled towers, 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now, see'st thou aught in this lone scene 
 Can tell of that which late hath been ? 
 A stranger might reply,
 
 198 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO, 
 
 " The bare extent of stubble-plain 
 Seems lately lighten'd of its grain ; 
 And yonder sable tracks remain 
 Marks of the peasant's ponderous wain, 
 
 When harvest-home was nigh. 
 On these broad spots of trampled ground, 
 Perchance the rustics danced such round 
 
 As Teniers loved to draw ; 
 And where the earth seems scorch'd by flame, 
 To dress the homely feast they came, 
 And toil'd the kerchief 'd village dame 
 
 Around her fire of straw."^- 
 
 V. 
 
 So deem'st thou so each mortal deems, 
 Of that which is from that which seems : 
 But other harvest here
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 199 
 
 Than that which peasant's scythe demands, 
 Was gather'd in by sterner hands, 
 
 With bayonet, blade, and spear. 
 No vulgar crop was theirs to reap, 
 No stinted harvest thin and cheap ! 
 Heroes before each fatal sweep 
 
 Fell thick as ripen'd grain ; 
 And ere the darkening of the day, 
 Piled high as autumn shocks, there lay 
 The ghastly harvest of the fray, 
 
 The corpses of the slain. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Aye, look again that line so black 
 And trampled, marks the bivouack, 
 Yon deep-graved ruts the artillery's track, 
 So often lost and won
 
 200 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 And close beside, the harden'd mud 
 Still shows where, fetlock-deep in blood, 
 The fierce dragoon, through battle's flood, 
 
 Dash'd the hot warJiorse on. 
 These spots of excavation tell 
 The ravage of the bursting shell 
 And feel'st thou not the tainted steam, 
 That reeks against the sultry beam, 
 
 From yonder trenched mound ? 
 The pestilential fumes declare 
 That Carnage has replenished there 
 
 Her garner-house profound. 
 
 VIL 
 
 Far other harvest-home and feast, 
 Than claims the boor from scythe released, 
 On these scorch'd fields were known !
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 1 
 
 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 ecstacy 
 
 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.
 
 202 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 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 pass'd. 
 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 FIELD OF WATERLOO. QQ3 
 
 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 havock near, 
 
 Of rapine and of flame. 
 What ghastly sights were thine to meet, 
 When, rolling through thy stately street, 
 The wounded shew'd their mangled plight 
 In token of the unfinish'd fight,
 
 204 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 And from each anguish-laden wain 
 The blood-drops laid thy dust like rain ! 
 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 !
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 205 
 
 " My steel-clad cuirassiers, advance ! 
 
 " Each Hulan forward with his lance, 
 
 " My Guard my chosen charge for France* 
 
 " France and Napoleon !" 
 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. 
 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 I"
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 XI. 
 
 On came the whirlwind like the last 
 But fiercest sweep of tempest blast- 
 On came the whirlwind steel-gleams broke 
 Like lightning through the rolling smoke, 
 
 The war was waked anew, 
 Three hundred cannon-mouths roar'd loud, 
 And from their throats, with flash and cloud, 
 
 Their showers of iron threw. 
 Beneath their fire, in full career, 
 Rush'd on the ponderous cuirassier, 
 The lancer couch'd his ruthless spear, 
 And hurrying as to havock near, 
 
 The Cohorts' eagles flew. 
 In one dark torrent broad and strong, ' 
 The advancing onset rolTd along,
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 207 
 
 Forth harbinger'd by fierce acclaim, 
 That, from the shroud of smoke and flame, 
 Peal'd wildly the imperial name. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But on the British heart were lost 
 
 The terrors of the charging host ; 
 
 For not an eye the storm that view'd 
 
 Changed its proud glance of fortitude, 
 
 Nor was one forward footstep staid, 
 
 As dropp'd the dying and the dead. 
 
 Fast as their ranks the thunders tear, 
 
 Fast they rertew'd each serried square ; 
 
 And on the wounded and the slain 
 
 Closed their diminish'd files again, 
 
 Till from their line scarce spears' lengths three, 
 
 Emerging from the smoke they see
 
 208 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 Helmet and plume and panoply, 
 
 Then waked their fire at once ! 
 Each musketeer's revolving knell, 
 As fast, as regularly fell, 
 As when they practise to display 
 Their discipline on festal day. 
 
 Then down went helm and lance, 
 Down were the eagle banners sent, 
 Down reeling steeds and riders went, 
 Corslets were pierced, and pennons rent ; 
 
 And to augment the fray, 
 WheeFd full against their staggering flanks, 
 The English horsemen's foaming ranks 
 
 Forced their resistless way. 
 Then to the musket-knell succeeds 
 The clash of swords the neigh of steeds 
 As plies the smith his clanging trade, 
 
 Against the cuirass rang the blade ; 
 
 S
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 And while amid their close array 
 The well-served cannon rent their way, 
 And while amid their scatter'd band 
 Raged the fierce rider's bloody brand, 
 Recoil'd in common rout and fear, 
 Lancer and guard and cuirassier, 
 Horsemen and foot, a mingled host, 
 Their leaders fallen, their standards lost* 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then, WELLINGTON ! thy piercing eye 
 This crisis caught of destiny 
 
 The British host had stood 
 That morn 'gainst charge of sword and lance 
 As their own ocean-rocks hold stance, 
 But when thy voice had said, Advance !" 
 
 They were their ocean's flood.
 
 210 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 O Thou, whose inauspicious aim 
 
 Hath wrought thy host this hour of shame, 
 
 Think'st thou thy broken bands will bide 
 
 The terrors of yon rushing tide ? 
 
 Or will thy Chosen brook to feel 
 
 The British shock of levell'd steel ? 
 
 Or dost thou turn thine eye 
 Where coming squadrons gleam afar, 
 And fresher thunders wake the war, 
 
 And other standards fly ? 
 Think not that in yon columns, file 
 Thy conquering troops from distant Dyle 
 
 Is Blucher yet unknown? 
 * Or dwells not in thy memory still, 
 (Heard frequent in thine hour of ill) 
 What notes of hate and vengeance thrill 
 
 In Prussia's trumpet tone ?
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 211 
 
 What yet remains ? shall it be thine 
 To head the reliques of thy line 
 
 In one dread effort more ? 
 The Roman lore thy leisure loved, 
 And thou can'st tell what fortune proved 
 
 That Chieftain, who, of yore, 
 Ambition's dizzy paths essay'd, 
 And with the gladiators' aid 
 
 For empire enterprized 
 He stood the cast his rashness play'd, 
 Left not the victims he had made, 
 Dug his red grave with his own blade, 
 And on the field he lost was laid, 
 
 Abhorr'd but not despised. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But if revolves thy fainter thought 
 On safety howsoever bought,
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 Then turn thy fearful rein and ride, 
 Though twice ten thousand men have died 
 
 On this eventful day, 
 To gild the military fame 
 Which thou, for life, in traffic tame 
 
 Wilt barter thus away. 
 Shall future ages tell this tale 
 Of inconsistence faint and frail ? 
 And art thou He of Lodi's bridge, 
 Marengo's field, and Wagram's ridge ! 
 
 Or is thy soul like mountain-tide, 
 That, swell'd by winter storm and shower, 
 Rolls down in turbulence of power 
 
 A torrent fierce and wide ; 
 'Reft of these aids, a rill obscure, 
 Shrinking unnoticed, mean, and poor, 
 
 Whose channel shows displayed
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 213 
 
 The wrecks of its impetuous course, 
 But not one symptom of the force 
 
 By which these wrecks were made ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Spur on thy way ! since now thine ear 
 Has brook'd thy veterans' wish to hear, 
 
 Who, as thy flight they eyed, 
 Exclaimed, while tears of anguish came, 
 Wrung forth by pride and rage and shame, 
 
 Oh that he had but died !" 
 But yet, to sum this hour of ill, 
 Look, ere thou leav*st the fatal hill, 
 
 Back on yon broken ranks 
 Upon whose wild confusion gleams 
 The moon, as on the troubled streams 
 
 When rivers break their banks,
 
 214 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 And, to the ruin'd peasant's eye, 
 Objects half seen roll swiftly by, 
 
 Down the dread current hurl'd 
 So mingle banner, wain, and- gun, 
 Where the tumultuous flight rolls on 
 Of warriors, who, when morn begun, 
 
 Defied a banded world. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 List frequent to the hurrying rout, 
 The stern pursuers' vengeful shout 
 Tells, that upon their broken rear 
 Rages the Prussian's bloody spear. 
 
 So fell a shriek was none, 
 When Beresina'fc icy flood 
 Rcdden'd and thaw'd with flame and blood,
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 215 
 
 And, pressing on thy desperate way, 
 Raised oft and long their wild hurra, 
 
 The children of the Don. 
 Thine ear no yell of horror cleft 
 So ominous, when, all bereft 
 Of aid, the valiant Polack left- 
 Aye, left by thee found soldier's grave 
 In Leipsic's corpse-encumber'd wave. 
 Fate, in these various perils past, 
 
 Reserved thee still some future cast : 
 
 On the dread die thou now hast thrown, 
 
 Hangs not a single field alone, 
 
 Nor one campaign thy martial fame. 
 
 Thy empire, dynasty, and name, 
 Have felt the final stroke ; 
 
 And now, o'er thy devoted head 
 
 The last stern vial's wrath is shed, 
 The last dread seal is broke.
 
 216 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Since live thou wilt refuse not now 
 Before these demagogues to bow, 
 Late objects of thy scorn and hate, 
 Who shall thy once imperial fate 
 Make wordy theme of vain debate. 
 Or shall we say, thou stoop'st less low 
 In seeking refuge from the foe, 
 Against whose heart, in prosperous life, 
 Thine hand hath ever held the knife ? 
 
 Such homage hath been paid 
 By Roman and by Grecian voice, 
 And there were honour in the choice, 
 
 If it were freely made. 
 Then safely come in one so low, 
 So lost, we cannot own a foe ;
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 217 
 
 Though dear experience bid us end, 
 In thee we ne'er can hail a friend. 
 Come, howsoe'er but do not hide 
 Close in thy heart that germ of pride, 
 Erewhile by gifted bard espied, 
 
 That " yet imperial hope ;" 
 Think not that for a fresh rebound, 
 To raise ambition from the ground, 
 
 We yield thee means or scope. 
 In safety come but ne'er again 
 Hold type of independent reign ; 
 
 No islet calls tbee lord, 
 We leave thee no confederate band, 
 No symbol of thy lost command, 
 To be a dagger in the hand 
 
 From which we wrench'd the sword.
 
 2 1 8 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Yet, even in yon sequester'd spot, 
 May worthier conquest be thy lot 
 
 Than yet thy life has known ; 
 Conquest, unbought by blood or harm, 
 That needs nor foreign aid nor arm, 
 
 A triumph all thine own. 
 Such waits thee when thou shalt controul 
 Those passions wild, that stubborn soul, 
 
 That marr'd thy prosperous scene : 
 Hear this from no unmoved heart, 
 Which sighs, comparing what THOU ART 
 
 With what thou MIGHT'ST HAVE BEEN ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Thou, too, whose deeds of fame renewM 
 Bankrupt a nation's gratitude,
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 2 1 9 
 
 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 !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 Look forth, once more, with soften'd heart, 
 Ere from the field of fame we part ;
 
 220 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 Triumph and Sorrow border near, 
 And joy oft melts into a tear. 
 Alas ! what links of love that morn 
 Has War's rude hand asunder torn ! 
 For ne'er was field so sternly fought, 
 And ne'er was conquest dearer bought. 
 Here piled in common slaughter sleep 
 Those whom affection long shall weep ; 
 Here rests the sire, that ne'er shall strain 
 His orphans to his heart again ; 
 The son, whom, on his native shore, 
 The parent's voice shall bless no more ; 
 The bridegroom, who has hardly press'd 
 His blushing consort to his breast ; 
 The husband, whom through many a year 
 Long love and mutual faith endear.
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 221 
 
 Thou can'st not name one tender tie 
 But here dissolved its reliques lie ! 
 O when thou see'st some mourner's veil, 
 Shroud her thin form and visage pale, 
 Or mark'st the Matron's bursting tears 
 Stream when the stricken drum she hears ; 
 Or see'st how manlier grief, suppress'd, 
 Is labouring in a father's breast, 
 With no enquiry vain pursue 
 The cause, but think on Waterloo ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Period of honour as of woes, 
 What bright careers 'twas thine to close ! 
 Mark'd on thy roll of blood what names 
 To Britain's memory, and to Fame's, 
 Laid there their last immortal claims !
 
 222 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 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 LANCY change Love's bridal-wreath, 
 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 !
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 223 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Forgive, brave Dead, the imperfect lay ! 
 Who may your names, your numbers, say ? 
 What high-strung harp, what lofty line, 
 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, 
 And sacred be the heroes' sleep, 
 Till Time shall cease to run 
 And ne'er beside their noble grave,
 
 224 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 May Briton pass and fail to crave 
 A blessing on the fallen brave 
 
 Who fought with Wellington ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Farewell, sad Field ! whose blighted face 
 Wears desolation's withering trace ; 
 Long shall my memory retain 
 Thy shatter'd huts and trampled grain, 
 With every mark of martial wrong, 
 That scathe thy towers, fair Hougomont ! 
 Yet though thy garden's green arcade 
 The marksman's fatal post was made, 
 Though on thy shatter'd beeches fell 
 The blended rage of shot and shell, 
 Though from thy blacken'd portals torn 
 Their fall thy blighted fruit-trees mourn,
 
 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 225 
 
 Has not such havock bought a name 
 Immortal in the rolls of fame ? 
 Yes Agincourt may be forgot, 
 And Cressy be an unknown spot, 
 
 And Blenheim's name be new ; 
 But still in story and in song, 
 For many an age remember'd long, 
 Shall live the towers of Hougomont, 
 
 And fields of Waterloo.
 
 226 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 STERN tide of human Time ! that know'st not rest, 
 
 But, sweeping from the cradle to the tomb, 
 Bear'st ever downward 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 silent port.
 
 CONCLUSION. 227 
 
 Stem tide of Time ! through what mysterious change 
 
 Of hope and fear have our frail barks 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.
 
 228 THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 Well art thou now repaid though slowly rose, 
 
 And struggled long with mists thy blaze of fame, 
 While like the dawn that in the orient glows 
 
 On the broad wave its earlier lustre came ; 
 Then eastern Egypt saw the growing flame, 
 
 And Maida's myrtles gleam'd beneath its ray, 
 Where first the soldier, stung with generous shame, 
 
 Rivall'd the heroes of the wat'ry way, 
 And wash'd in foemen's gore unjust reproach away. 
 
 Now, Island Empress, wave thy crest on high, 
 
 And bid the banner of thy Patron flow, 
 Gallant Saint George, the flower of Chivalry ! 
 
 For thou hast faced, like him, a dragon foe, 
 And rescued innocence from overthrow, 
 
 And trampled down, like him, tyrannic might, 
 And to the gazing world may'st proudly show 
 
 The chosen emblem of thy sainted Knight, 
 Who quelTd devouring pride, and vindicated right.
 
 CONCLUSION. 229 
 
 Yet 'mid the confidence of just renown, 
 
 Renown dear-bought, but dearest thus acquired, 
 Write, Britain, write the moral lesson down : 
 'Tis not alone the heart with valour fired, 
 The discipline so dreaded and admired, 
 
 In many a field of bloody conquest known ; 
 Such may by fame be lured, by gold be hired 
 
 'Tis constancy in the good cause alone, 
 Best justifies the meed thy valiant sons have won.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note L 
 
 The peasant, at his labour blithe, 
 Plies the hook'd staff and shortened scythe. P. 195. 
 The reaper in Flanders carries in his left hand a stick 
 with an iron hook, with which he collects as much grain 
 as he can cut at one sweep with a short scythe, which 
 he holds in his right hand. They carry on this double 
 process with great spirit and dexterity. 
 
 Note II. 
 
 Pale Brussels ! then tohat thoughts were thine. P 203. 
 It was affirmed by the prisoners of war, that Buona- 
 parte had promised his army, in case of victory, twenty- 
 four hours plunder of the city of Brussels.
 
 234 NOTES. 
 
 Note III. 
 " Confront the battery's jaws ofjlame ! 
 
 " Rush on the levelled gun /"P. 204. 
 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 eye-wit- 
 ness has given the following account of his demeanour 
 towards the end of the action : 
 
 " It was near seven o'clock ; Buonaparte, 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 indig- 
 nant at these unforeseen difficulties ; and, far from fear- 
 ing 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 disorder- 
 ed ; to which he only replied, ' En avant .' en want i * 
 " One general sent to inform the Emperor that he 
 was in a position which he could not maintain, because 
 11
 
 NOTES. 35 
 
 it was commanded by a battery, and requested to know, 
 at the same time, in what way he should protect his di- 
 vision from the murderous fire of the English artillery. 
 ' Let him storm the battery,' replied Buonaparte, and 
 turned his back on the aid-de-camp who brought the 
 message." Relation de la Bntaille de Mont-Saint-Jean. 
 Par un Temoin Occulaire. Paris, 1815, 8vo. p. 51. 
 
 Note IV. 
 
 The fate their leader shunn'd to share. P. 205. 
 It has been reported that Buonaparte 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 
 form of La Haye Sainte, one of the points most fiercely 
 disputed. Here he harangued the guards, and informed 
 them that his preceding operations had destroyed the 
 British infantry and cavalry, and that they had only to 
 support the fire of the artillery, which they were to at- 
 tack with the bayonet. This exhortation was received 
 with shouts of Vive /* Empereur y which were heard over 
 all our line, and led to an idea that Napoleon was char- 
 ging in person. But the guards were led on by Ney ; 
 nor did Buonaparte approach nearer the scene of action 
 than the spot already mentioned, which the rising banks
 
 236 NOTES. 
 
 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, particu- 
 larly 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 shewed, on 
 that memorable occasion, the least deficiency in personal 
 courage ; on the contrary, he evinced the greatest com- 
 posure 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 car- 
 nage, none of his suite were either killed or wounded, 
 whereas scarcely one of the Duke of Wellington's per- 
 sonal attendants escaped unhurt. 
 
 Note V. 
 
 England shall tell the fight. P. 205. 
 In riding up to a regiment which was hard pressed, 
 the Duke called to the men, " Soldiers, we must never 
 
 * The mistakes concerning this observatory have been mutual. 
 The English supposed it was erected for the use of Buonaparte; 
 and a French writer affirms it was constructed by the Duke of 
 Wellington.
 
 NOTES. 237 
 
 be beat, what wUl they say in England >" It is need- 
 less to say how this appeal was answered. 
 
 Note VI. 
 
 As plies the smith his clanging trade, 
 Against the cuirass rang the blade. P. 208. 
 A private soldier of the 95th regiment compared the 
 sound which took place immediately upon the British 
 cavalry mingling with those of the enemy, to " a thou- 
 sand tinkers at loork mending pots and kettles." 
 
 Note VII. 
 
 Or unll thy Chosen brook to feel 
 The British shock of leveled steel P. 210. 
 No persuasion or authority could prevail upon the 
 French troops to stand the shock of the bayonet. The 
 imperial guards, in particular, hardly stood till the British 
 were within thirty yards of them, although the French 
 author, already quoted, has put into their mouths the 
 magnanimous sentiment, " The guards never yield- 
 they die." The same author has covered the plateau, 
 or eminence, of St Jean, which formed the British po- 
 sition, with redoubts and entrenchments which never 
 had an existence. As the narrative, which is in many 
 respects curious, was written by an eye-witness, he was 
 probably deceived by the appearance of a road and ditch
 
 238 NOTES. 
 
 which runs along part of the hill. It may be also men- 
 tioned, in criticising this work, that the writer states the 
 Chateau of Hougomont to have been carried by the 
 French, although it was resolutely and successfully de- 
 fended during the whole action, The enemy, indeed, 
 possessed themselves of the wood by which it is sur- 
 rounded, and at length set fire to the house itself; but 
 the British (a detachment of the Guards, under the 
 command of Colonel Macdonnell, and afterwards of Co- 
 lonel Home, ) made good the garden, and thus preser- 
 ved, by their desperate resistance, the post which co- 
 vered the return of the Duke of Wellington's right 
 flank. 
 
 THE END.
 
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 THE HISTORY of the late WAR in SPAIN and POR- 
 TUGAL. By ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq. 2 vols. 4to. 
 
 PAUL'S LETTERS to his KINSFOLKS ; being a Series 
 of LETTERS from the CONTINENT. 8vo. 
 
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 dice, 3 vols. 12mo. 
 
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