V. · Section 3

V.

Napoléon urg’d his ever-dauntless band, Nerv’d was each arm, and bare each shining brand; Flush’d was each cheek, joy beam’d in ev’ry eye,-- They seem’d to think it were a bliss to die. “Forward, my comrades; forward speed your way, Our guardian genius shall record this day!” They wait no more!--the courser feels the rein No longer check him from the warring plain. Thirsting for blood, impatient for the fight, The sabre glitters with effulgent light; Rear’d by that arm, which knows no other laws, 60 Than courting glory, in its chieftain’s cause.

VI.

On, as the waves, they roll their sweeping course, Where stood the pride of Caledonia’s force: This legion saw the mighty hosts appear, Nor yet it felt one dastard throb of fear; Perhaps a sigh prolong’d the lover’s breath, As one who saw th’ approach of certain death! Perhaps the father’s anxious love might know One throb of feeling cross his manly brow; 70 Perhaps a tear the patriot’s cheek might stain, For that dear land, he ne’er might see again;-- Yet, if the drop of soften’d love would stray, The warrior wip’d th’ unbidden guest away!