The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 74

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To Jack, howe'er, this gave but slight concern: His soul (like galvanism upon the dead) Acted upon the living as on wire, And led them back into the heaviest fire.

XLII.

Egad! they found the second time what they The first time thought quite terrible enough To fly from, malgre all which people say Of Glory, and all that immortal stuff Which fills a regiment (besides their pay, That daily s.h.i.+lling which makes warriors tough)-- They found on their return the self-same welcome, Which made some _think_, and others _know_, a _h.e.l.l_ come.

XLIII.

They fell as thick as harvests beneath hail, Gra.s.s before scythes, or corn below the sickle, Proving that trite old truth, that Life's as frail As any other boon for which men stickle.

The Turkish batteries thrashed them like a flail, Or a good boxer, into a sad pickle Putting the very bravest, who were knocked Upon the head before their guns were c.o.c.ked.

XLIV.

The Turks behind the traverses and flanks Of the next bastion, fired away like devils, And swept, as gales sweep foam away, whole ranks: However, Heaven knows how, the Fate who levels Towns--nations--worlds, in her revolving pranks, So ordered it, amidst these sulphury revels, That Johnson, and some few who had not scampered, Reached the interior "talus"[432] of the rampart.[433]

XLV.

First one or two, then five, six, and a dozen Came mounting quickly up, for it was now All neck or nothing, as, like pitch or rosin, Flame was showered forth above, as well 's below, So that you scarce could say who best had chosen, The gentlemen that were the first to show Their martial faces on the parapet, Or those who thought it brave to wait as yet.

XLVI.

But those who scaled, found out that their advance Was favoured by an accident or blunder: The Greek or Turkish Cohorn's[434] ignorance Had pallisadoed in a way you'd wonder To see in forts of Netherlands or France-- (Though these to our Gibraltar must knock under)-- Right in the middle of the parapet Just named, these palisades were primly set:[435]

XLVII.

So that on either side some nine or ten Paces were left, whereon you could contrive To march; a great convenience to our men, At least to all those who were left alive, Who thus could form a line and fight again; And that which farther aided them to strive Was, that they could kick down the palisades, Which scarcely rose much higher than gra.s.s blades.[436]

XLVIII.

Among the first,--I will not say _the first_, For such precedence upon such occasions Will oftentimes make deadly quarrels burst Out between friends as well as allied nations: The Briton must be bold who really durst Put to such trial John Bull's partial patience, As say that Wellington at Waterloo Was beaten,--though the Prussians say so too;--

XLIX.

And that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, And G.o.d knows who besides in "au" and "ow,"

Had not come up in time to cast an awe[437]

Into the hearts of those who fought till now As tigers combat with an empty craw, The Duke of Wellington had ceased to show His Orders--also to receive his pensions, Which are the heaviest that our history mentions.

L.

But never mind;--"G.o.d save the King!" and _Kings!_ For if _he_ don't, I doubt if _men_ will longer-- I think I hear a little bird, who sings The people by and by will be the stronger: The veriest jade will wince whose harness wrings So much into the raw as quite to wrong her Beyond the rules of posting,--and the mob At last fall sick of imitating Job.

LI.

At first it grumbles, then it swears, and then, Like David, flings smooth pebbles 'gainst a Giant; At last it takes to weapons such as men s.n.a.t.c.h when Despair makes human hearts less pliant.

Then comes "the tug of war;"--'t will come again, I rather doubt; and I would fain say "fie on 't,"

If I had not perceived that Revolution Alone can save the earth from h.e.l.l's pollution.

LII.

But to continue:--I say not _the_ first, But of the first, our little friend Don Juan Walked o'er the walls of Ismail, as if nursed Amidst such scenes--though this was quite a new one To him, and I should hope to _most_. The thirst Of Glory, which so pierces through and through one, Pervaded him--although a generous creature, As warm in heart as feminine in feature.[ig]

LIII.

And here he was--who upon Woman's breast, Even from a child, felt like a child; howe'er The Man in all the rest might be confessed, To him it was Elysium to be there; And he could even withstand that awkward test Which Rousseau points out to the dubious fair, "Observe your lover when he _leaves_ your arms;"

But Juan never _left_ them--while they had charms,

LIV.

Unless compelled by Fate, or wave, or wind, Or near relations--who are much the same.

But _here_ he was!--where each tie that can bind Humanity must yield to steel and flame: And _he_ whose very body was all mind, Flung here by Fate or Circ.u.mstance, which tame The loftiest, hurried by the time and place, Dashed on like a spurred blood-horse in a race.

LV.

So was his blood stirred while he found resistance, As is the hunter's at the five-bar gate, Or double post and rail, where the existence Of Britain's youth depends upon their weight--The lightest being the safest: at a distance He hated cruelty, as all men hate Blood, until heated--and even then his own At times would curdle o'er some heavy groan.

LVI.

The General Lascy, who had been hard pressed, Seeing arrive an aid so opportune As were some hundred youngsters all abreast, Who came as if just dropped down from the moon To Juan, who was nearest him, addressed His thanks, and hopes to take the city soon, Not reckoning him to be a "base Bezonian"[438]

(As Pistol calls it), but a young Livonian.[439]

LVII.

Juan, to whom he spoke in German, knew As much of German as of Sanscrit, and In answer made an inclination to The General who held him in command; For seeing one with ribands, black and blue, Stars, medals, and a b.l.o.o.d.y sword in hand, Addressing him in tones which seemed to thank, He recognised an officer of rank.

LVIII.

Short speeches pa.s.s between two men who speak No common language; and besides, in time Of war and taking towns, when many a shriek Rings o'er the dialogue, and many a crime Is perpetrated ere a word can break Upon the ear, and sounds of horror chime In like church-bells, with sigh, howl, groan, yell, prayer, There cannot be much conversation there.

LIX.

And therefore all we have related in Two long octaves, pa.s.sed in a little minute; But in the same small minute, every sin Contrived to get itself comprised within it.

The very cannon, deafened by the din, Grew dumb, for you might almost hear a linnet, As soon as thunder, 'midst the general noise Of Human Nature's agonizing voice!

LX.

The town was entered. Oh Eternity!-- "G.o.d made the country, and man made the town,"

So Cowper says[440]--and I begin to be Of his opinion, when I see cast down Rome--Babylon-Tyre-Carthage--Nineveh-- All walls men know, and many never known; And pondering on the present and the past, To deem the woods shall be our home at last:--

LXI.

Of all men, saving Sylla,[441] the man-slayer, Who pa.s.ses for in life and death most lucky, Of the great names which in our faces stare, The General Boon, back-woodsman of Kentucky,[442]

Was happiest amongst mortals anywhere; For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he Enjoyed the lonely, vigorous, harmless days Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze.

LXII.

Crime came not near him--she is not the child Of solitude; Health shrank not from him--for Her home is in the rarely trodden wild, Where if men seek her not, and death be more Their choice than life, forgive them, as beguiled By habit to what their own hearts abhor-- In cities caged. The present case in point I Cite is, that Boon lived hunting up to ninety;

LXIII.

And, what's still stranger, left behind a name For which men vainly decimate the throng, Not only famous, but of that _good_ fame, Without which Glory's but a tavern song-- Simple, serene, the _antipodes_ of Shame, Which Hate nor Envy e'er could tinge with wrong; An active hermit, even in age the child Of Nature--or the Man of Ross[443] run wild.

The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 74

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