Dramatic Romances and Lyrics

I You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: 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.

II Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans That soar, to earth may fall, Let once my army-leader Lannes 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.

III Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse’s mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect (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.

IV “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, Perched him—” The chief’s eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire.