AIDE
Sir William Ponsonby, my lords, has fallen.
His horse got mud-stuck in a new-plowed plot,
Lancers surrounded him and bore him down,
And six then ran him through. The occasion sprung
Mainly from the Brigade’s too reckless rush,
Sheer to the French front line.
WELLINGTON [gravely]
Ah—so it comes!
The Greys were bound to pay—’tis always so—
Full dearly for their dash so far afield.
Valour unballasted but lands its freight
On the enemy’s shore.—What has become of Hill?
AIDE
We have not seen him latterly, your Grace.
WELLINGTON
By God, I hope I haven’t lost him, too?
BRIDGMAN [just come up]
Lord Hill’s bay charger, being shot dead, your Grace,
Rolled over him in falling. He is bruised,
But hopes to be in place again betimes.
WELLINGTON
Praise Fate for thinking better of that frown!
[It is now nearing four o’clock. La Haye Sainte is devastated by
the second attack of NEY. The farm has been enveloped by DONZELOT’S
division, its garrison, the King’s German Legion, having fought
till all ammunition was exhausted. The gates are forced open, and
in the retreat of the late defenders to the main Allied line they
are nearly all cut or shot down.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
O Farm of sad vicissitudes and strange!
Farm of the Holy Hedge, yet fool of change!
Whence lit so sanct a name on thy now violate grange?
WELLINGTON [to Müffling, resolutely]
Despite their fierce advantage here, I swear
By every God that war can call upon
To hold our present place at any cost,
Until your force cooperate with our lines!
To that I stand; although ’tis bruited now
That Bülow’s corps has only reached Ohain.
I’ve sent Freemantle hence to seek them there,
And give them inkling we shall need them soon.
MÜFFLING [looking at his watch]
I had hoped that Blücher would be here ere this.
[The staff turn their glasses on the French position.]
UXBRIDGE
What movement can it be they contemplate?