You know, we French stormed Ratisbon°:
°1
A mile or so away
On a little mound, Napoleon
Stood on our storming-day;
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,
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°
°11
Waver at yonder wall”—
Out ’twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew
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
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
When her bruised eaglet breathes.
“You’re wounded!” “Nay,”
the soldier’s pride
Touched to the quick, he said:
“I’m killed, Sire!” And his chief
beside,
Smiling, the boy fell dead.
40
* * * *
“HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO
AIX”
[16—]
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
“Good speed!” cried the watch, as the
gate-bolts undrew;
“Speed!” echoed the wall to us galloping
through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our
place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
10
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
’Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew
near
Lokeren°, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear:
°14
At Boom°, a great yellow star came out to see;
°15
At Düffeld°, ’twas morning as plain as could
be; °16
And from Mecheln° church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
°17
So, Joris broke silence with, “Yet there is
time!”
At Aershot° up leaped of a sudden the sun,
°19
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
20
To stare through the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent
back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye’s black intelligence,—ever
that glance
O’er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
30
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay
spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault’s not
in her,
We’ll remember at Aix”—for
one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering
knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
’Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble
like chaff; 40
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for
Aix is in sight!”
“How they’ll greet us!”—and
all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets’
rim.
Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
50
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad
or good,
Till at length, into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
And all I remember is,—friends flocking
round
As I sat with his head ’twixt my knees on the
ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from
Ghent. 60
* * *
*
