XVII.
And now, exulting o’er the glorious slain,
The troops of Ponsonby usurp the plain:
Where’er their leader’s conq’ring claymore shone,
There, may the widow make her joyless moan;260
The orphan’s wailing, and the mother’s tear;
The maiden’s anguish, and the sire’s despair;
The dying warrior’s last accusing breath,
And all the laurell’d pageantry of death;
Pursue the path their chieftain’s bloody blade
Through the thick whirl of eddying hosts has made.
And now the Poles on ev’ry side give way,
And, routed, yield the fortunes of the day:
But, warm’d by fame, exulting in their might,
Too far the conq’rors urge the conquer’d’s flight;270
And their dread leader’s[19] all-surveying eyes
Saw the rash deed of heated enterprise.
To check their unadvis’d, and hasty speed,
Across the plain, he spurr’d his foaming steed;
Fleeter than air, and swifter than the wind,
The scene of conquest soon he leaves behind.
XVIII.
A field there was, on which the lab’ring swain
Had lately sown the life-supporting grain:
Soft was the soil, by vernal showers fed,279
Damp, yielding moistures o’er the plain were spread.
By fate ordain’d, its baleful influence lay
Where the swift courser urg’d his flying way;
Light, o’er the bank which mark’d the treach’rous ground
Swift as a dart, his fairy footsteps bound.
Why stops his speed? why rolls his frenzied eye?
Why lost the pow’r, but not the wish to fly?
Why vainly strive to quit the fatal field?
With all the strength which agony can yield,
Why vainly nerve each mighty limb to strain?
Each effort binds him closer to the plain;290
The hand of fate has fix’d his master there,
And heav’n has call’d him from his bright career.
XIX.
When that dread chief perceiv’d th’ inglorious doom,
Which seem’d to sink him to a living tomb,
Pale grew his cheek, his raging eye-balls glare,
And thus, to heav’n, he offers up his prayer:—
“Oh, thou dread Pow’r, whose mighty name is bore
On ev’ry tongue, to earth’s remotest shore!
O God Omnipotent, whom all obey,299
While heav’n, and earth, and ocean, own thy sway!
Bend from thy radiant throne, incline thine ear,
Listen! oh, listen! to a suppliant’s pray’r:
Not thus inglorious, claim my fleeting breath,
But let a warrior, die a warrior’s death!”
Strong passions drown’d his voice, yet heav’n had heard
The pray’r by valour’s votary preferr’d:
Far to the right, a moving host appears,
The sunbeams glitt’ring on their hostile spears.
As some dark mist, when wintry storms arise,
Slow, spreads its influence o’er the mirky skies;310
So, (wrapt in dusk and smoke,) the distant train
Obscure the fields, and slowly sweep the plain.
XX.
Brightly the chieftain smil’d! a gladdening beam
Shot o’er his brow, his bloodshot eye-balls gleam;
Backwards his view, with haughty joy he cast
Towards the bounds his fiery steed had past;—
One sole, one fond, one faithful friend was there,—
A brother’s love had join’d the godlike pair;
From youth to manhood, grew that love sublime,
Began by virtue, and matur’d by time.320
When peace and plenty held their golden reign,
And crown’d the efforts of the lab’ring swain,
Th’ unmeasurable space they wander’d o’er
Of wisdom’s paths, of learning’s sacred lore:
But, when Bellona yok’d her iron car,
And honour call’d them to the paths of war,
Still, side by side, the youthful heroes led
Their hardy warriors to their country’s aid;
The aim of each, amidst the bloody strife,330
To scorn his own, to guard his comrade’s life.
If ’gainst the chieftain’s bosom gleam’d the spear,
The other’s arm would ward the danger near;
And, if th’ uplifted sabre of the foe
Should rise, to lay his lov’d companion low,
The mighty Ponsonby’s avenging hand,
Would smite the threat’ner lifeless on the strand.