XVI.

XVI.

The hero ceas’d!--but loud applauding cries, 360 “Long live our Emperor!” rend the list’ning skies; From hill to hill, the deaf’ning shouts rebound, And Britain’s Genius trembled at the sound! E’en vengeful Prussia, thund’ring from afar, Dropt the red brand, and, wond’ring, ceas’d the war. Those notes so loudly, and so sternly rung, That ev’ry warring rank in mute attention hung! Now slowly winding o’er the devious path, The pride of France, direct their ardent wrath! Not one warm bosom, felt a pang of fear-- 370 No colder throbbing, check their bold career! So gladly stern, they bend their awful way, They seem’d to think their conquest sure that day.

Sudden a band of Brunswick’s sons appear, High in the air, their scathing swords they rear; And dare to extend the death-arousing hand, ’Gainst Europe’s dread--Napoléon’s favour’d band: Vain are their force!--the eye can scarce survey What heaps the Gauls, exulting, swept away! Again, in that dread hour, proud Victory spread 380 Her ample pinions o’er Napoléon’s head; In cold anxiety, he views from far, Screen’d by the vale, th’ achievements of the war.

Hark! what a peal re-echoes through the skies; What sudden clouds of lurid smoke arise? ’Tis the hoarse sound, so fatal to the brave, Red Death’s loud herald--patron of the grave! Lo! what a troop of Gallia’s flow’r, who late, Exulted wide, and scorn’d the rod of Fate, Stretch’d upon earth, depriv’d of life and breath, 390 Still sternly frowning, seem to spurn at Death! But as _one_ fell, _another_ quick supplied The vacant place, with fierce, undaunted pride;-- That pride which scorns all ties, that seem to part The idol Glory from the warrior’s heart! E’en if a brother, son, or father die, They view his slaughter with unalter’d eye; Each earthly passion from their souls had flow’n, Or rather seem’d absorb’d in one alone, 399 To grace their much-lov’d Sov’reign’s honour’d name, To live in glory, or to die in fame!