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Better hadst thou still been leading
On thy war-horse through the ranks,
Like a stream which burst its banks, While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing, Shone and shiver'd fast around thee Of the fate at last which found thee: Was that haughty plume laid low By a slave's dishonest blow? Once—as the Moon sways o'er the tide, It roll'd in air, the warrior's guide; Through the smoke-created night Of the black and sulphurous fight, The soldier raised his seeking eye To catch that crest's ascendancy, And, as it onward rolling rose, So moved his heart upon our foes, There, where death's brief pang was quickest, And the battle's wreck lay thickest, Strew'd beneath the advancing banner
Of the eagle's burning crest
Who could then her wing arrest
While the broken line enlarging
Fell, or fled along the plain ; There be sure was Murat charging!
There he ne'er shall charge again!
O'er glories gone the invaders march,
But the heart and the mind,
(FROM THE FRENCH.]
* All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who had been
exalted from the ranks by Buonaparte. He clung to his master's knees : wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accom. pany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted."
Must thou go, my glorious Chief,
Sever'd from thy faithful few ?
Who can tell thy warrior's grief,
Maddening o'er that long adieu ? Woman's love, and friendship's zeal,
Dear as both have been to meWhat are they to all I feel,
With a soldier's faith for thee?
Idol of the soldier's soul!
First in fight, but mightiest now: Many could a world control;
Thee alone no doom can bow. By thy side for years I dared
Death; and envied those who fell, When their dying shout was heard,
Blessing him they served so well:(8)
Would that I were cold with those,
Since this hour I live to see; When the doubts of coward foes
Scarce dare trust a man with thee, breading each should set thee free.
Oh! although in dungeons pent, All their chains were light to me,
Gazing on thy soul unbent.
Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer, Were his borrow'd glories dim,
In his native darkness share ?
All thou calmly dost resign,
Hearts like those which still are thine ?
My chief, my king, my friend, adieu !
Never did I droop before; Never to my sovereign sue,
As his foes I now implore All I ask is to divide
Every peril he must brave; Sharing by the hero's side
His fall, his exile, and his grave.