HEYMÈS
Such was the prayer
Of my commission, sire. And I say
That I myself have seen his strokes must waste
Without such backing.
NAPOLÉON
Why?
HEYMÈS
Our cavalry
Lie stretched in swathes, fronting the furnace-throats
Of the English cannon as a breastwork built
Of reeking copses. Marshal Ney’s third horse
Is shot. Besides the slain, Donop, Guyot,
Lheritier, Piquet, Travers, Delort, more,
Are vilely wounded. On the other hand
Wellington has sought refuge in a square,
Few of his generals are not killed or hit,
And all is tickle with him. But I see,
Likewise, that I can claim no reinforcement,
And will return and say so.
[Exit HEYMÈS]
NAPOLÉON [to Soult, sadly]
Ney does win me!
I fain would strengthen him.—Within an ace
Of breaking down the English as he is,
’Twould write upon the sunset “Victory!”—
But whom may spare we from the right here now?
So single man!
[An interval.]
Life’s curse begins, I see,
With helplessness!... All I can compass is
To send Durutte to fall on Papelotte,
And yet more strongly occupy La Haye,
To cut off Bülow’s right from bearing up
And checking Ney’s attack. Further than this
None but the Gods can scheme!
[SOULT hastily begins writing orders to that effect. The point
of view shifts.]
SCENE VII
THE SAME. THE ENGLISH POSITION
[The din of battle continues. WELLINGTON, UXBRIDGE, HILL, DE
LANCEY, GORDON, and others discovered near the middle of the line.]
SPIRIT OF RUMOUR
It is a moment when the steadiest pulse
Thuds pit-a-pat. The crisis shapes and nears
For Wellington as for his counter-chief.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
The hour is shaking him, unshakeable
As he may seem!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
Know’st not at this stale time
That shaken and unshaken are alike
But demonstrations from the Back of Things?
Must I again reveal It as It hauls
The halyards of the world?
[A transparency as in earlier scenes again pervades the spectacle,
and the ubiquitous urging of the Immanent Will becomes visualized.
The web connecting all the apparently separate shapes includes
WELLINGTON in its tissue with the rest, and shows him, like them,
as acting while discovering his intention to act. By the lurid
light the faces of every row, square, group, and column of men,
French and English, wear the expression of that of people in a
dream.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES [tremulously]
Yea, sire; I see.
Disquiet me, pray, no more!
[The strange light passes, and the embattled hosts on the field
seem to move independently as usual.]