INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP. 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, II. Just as perhaps he mused "My plans Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew 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 looked twice ere you saw his breast 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. V. The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes; "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said : "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead. THE LOST LEADER. I. JUST for a handful of silver he left us, How all our copper had gone for his service! Rags were they purple, his heart had been proud! We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us,-they watch from their graves! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! II. We shall march prospering,-not thro' his presence; One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Best fight on well, for we taught him-strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we master his own ; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne! IN A GONDOLA. He sings. I SEND my heart up to thee, all my heart In this my singing. For the stars help me, and the sea bears part; Closer to Venice' streets to leave one space Above me, whence thy face May light my joyous heart to thee its dwelling-place. She speaks. Say after me, and try to say My very words, as if each word In your own voice, in your own way: And yet once more say. . no word more! Since words are only words. Give o'er! Unless you call me, all the same, Familiarly by my pet name, Which if the Three should hear you call, |