YOU know we French stormed Ratisbon: | |
| A mile or so away, | |
| On a little mound, Napoleon | |
| Stood on our storming-day; | |
| With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, | 5 |
| Legs wide, arms locked behind, | |
| As if to balance the prone brow, | |
| Oppressive with its mind. | |
| |
| Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans | |
| That soar, to earth may fall, | 10 |
| Let once my army-leader Lannes | |
| Waver at yonder wall,”— | |
| Out ’twixt the battery-smokes there flew | |
| A rider, bound on bound | |
| Full-galloping; nor bridle drew | 15 |
| Until he reached the mound. | |
| |
| Then off there flung in smiling joy, | |
| And held himself erect | |
| By just his horse’s mane, a boy: | |
| You hardly could suspect— | 20 |
| (So tight he kept his lips compressed, | |
| Scarce any blood came through) | |
| You looked twice ere you saw his breast | |
| Was all but shot in two. | |
| |
| “Well,” cried he, “Emperor, by God’s grace | 25 |
| We’ve got you Ratisbon! | |
| The marshal’s in the market-place, | |
| And you’ll be there anon | |
| To see your flag-bird flap his vans | |
| Where I, to heart’s desire, | 30 |
| Perched him!” The chief’s eye flashed; his plans | |
| Soared up again like fire. | |
| |
| The chief’s eye flashed; but presently | |
| Softened itself, as sheathes | |
| A film the mother eagle’s eye | 35 |
| When her bruised eaglet breathes: | |
| “You’re wounded!” “Nay,” his soldier’s pride | |
| Touched to the quick, he said: | |
| “I’m killed sire!” And, his chief beside, | |
| Smiling, the boy fell dead. | 40 |
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