| |
| GOOD Father!… ’Twas an eve in middle June, | |
| And war was waged anew | |
| By great Napoleon, who for years had strewn | |
| Men’s bones all Europe through. | |
| |
| Three nights ere this, with columned corps he’d crossed | 5 |
| The Sambre at Charleroi, | |
| To move on Brussels, where the English host | |
| Dallied in Parc and Bois. | |
| |
| The yestertide we’d heard the gloomy gun | |
| Growl through the long-sunned day | 10 |
| From Quatre-Bras and Ligny; till the dun | |
| Twilight suppressed the fray; | |
| |
| Albeit therein—as lated tongues bespoke— | |
| Brunswick’s high heart was drained, | |
| And Prussia’s Line and Landwehr, though unbroke, | 15 |
| Stood cornered and constrained. | |
| |
| And at next noon-time Grouchy slowly passed | |
| With thirty thousand men: | |
| We hoped thenceforth no army, small or vast, | |
| Would trouble us again. | 20 |
| |
| My hut lay deeply in a vale recessed, | |
| And never a soul seemed nigh | |
| When, reassured at length, we went to rest— | |
| My children, wife, and I. | |
| |
| But what was this that broke our humble ease? | 25 |
| What noise, above the rain, | |
| Above the dripping of the poplar trees | |
| That smote along the pane? | |
| |
| —A call of mastery, bidding me arise, | |
| Compelled me to the door, | 30 |
| At which a horseman stood in martial guise— | |
| Splashed—sweating from every pore. | |
| |
| Had I seen Grouchy? Yes? Which track took he? | |
| Could I lead thither on?— | |
| Fulfilment would ensure gold pieces three, | 35 |
| Perchance more gifts anon. | |
| |
| “I bear the Emperor’s mandate,” then he said, | |
| “Charging the Marshal straight | |
| To strike between the double host ahead | |
| Ere they co-operate, | 40 |
| |
| “Engaging Blücher till the Emperor put | |
| Lord Wellington to flight, | |
| And next the Prussians. This to set afoot | |
| Is my emprise to-night.” | |
| |
| I joined him in the mist; but, pausing, sought | 45 |
| To estimate his say, | |
| Grouchy had made for Wavre; and yet, on thought, | |
| I did not lead that way. | |
| |
| I mused: “If Grouchy thus instructed be, | |
| The clash comes sheer hereon; | 50 |
| My farm is stript. While, as for pieces three, | |
| Money the French have none. | |
| |
| “Grouchy unwarned, moreo’er, the English win, | |
| And mine is left to me— | |
| They buy, not borrow.”—Hence did I begin | 55 |
| To lead him treacherously. | |
| |
| By Joidoigne, near to east, as we ondrew, | |
| Dawn pierced the humid air; | |
| And eastward faced I with him, though I knew | |
| Never marched Grouchy there. | 60 |
| |
| Near Ottignies we passed, across the Dyle | |
| (Lim’lette left far aside), | |
| And thence direct toward Pervez and Noville | |
| Through green grain, till he cried: | |
| |
| “I doubt thy conduct, man! no track is here | 65 |
| I doubt they gagèd word!” | |
| Thereat he scowled on me, and pranced me near, | |
| And pricked me with his sword. | |
| |
| “Nay, Captain, hold! We skirt, not trace the course | |
| Of Grouchy,” said I then: | 70 |
| “As we go, yonder went he, with his force | |
| Of thirty thousand men.” | |
| |
| —At length noon nighed, when west, from Saint-John’s-Mound, | |
| A hoarse artillery boomed, | |
| And from Saint-Lambert’s upland, chapel-crowned, | 75 |
| The Prussian squadrons loomed. | |
| |
| Then to the wayless wet gray ground he leapt; | |
| “My mission fails!” he cried; | |
| “Too late for Grouchy now to intercept, | |
| For, peasant, you have lied!” | 80 |
| |
| He turned to pistol me. I sprang, and drew | |
| The sabre from his flank, | |
| And ’twixt his nape and shoulder, ere he knew, | |
| I struck, and dead he sank. | |
| |
| I hid him deep in nodding rye and oat— | 85 |
| His shroud green stalks and loam; | |
| His requiem the corn-blade’s husky note— | |
| And then I hastened home…. | |
| |
| —Two armies writhe in coils of red and blue, | |
| And brass and iron clang | 90 |
| From Goumont, past the front of Waterloo, | |
| To Pap’lotte and Smohain. | |
| |
| The Guard Imperial wavered on the height; | |
| The Emperor’s face grew glum; | |
| “I sent,” he said, “to Grouchy yesternight, | 95 |
| And yet he does not come!” | |
| |
| ’Twas then, Good Father, that the French espied, | |
| Streaking the summer land, | |
| The men of Blücher. But the Emperor cried, | |
| “Grouchy is now at hand!” | 100 |
| |
| And meanwhile Vand’leur, Vivian, Maitland, Kempt, | |
| Met d’Erlon, Friant, Ney; | |
| But Grouchy—mis-sent, blamed, yet blame-exempt— | |
| Grouchy was far away. | |
| |
| Be even, slain or struck, Michel the strong, | 105 |
| Bold Travers, Dnop, Delord, | |
| Smart Guyot, Reil-le, l’Heriter, Friant. | |
| Scattered that champaign o’er. | |
| |
| Fallen likewise wronged Duhesme, and skilled Lobau | |
| Did that red sunset see; | 110 |
| Colbert, Legros, Blancard!… And of the foe | |
| Picton and Ponsonby; | |
| |
| With Gordon, Canning, Blackman, Ompteda, | |
| L’Estrange, Delancey, Packe, | |
| Grose, D’Oyly, Stables, Morice, Howard, Hay, | 115 |
| Von Schwerin, Watzdorf, Boek, | |
| |
| Smith, Phelips, Fuller, Lind, and Battersby, | |
| And hosts of ranksmen round… | |
| Memorials linger yet to speak to thee | |
| Of those that bit the ground! | 120 |
| |
| The Guards’ last column yielded; dykes of dead | |
| Lay between vale and ridge, | |
| As, thinned yet closing, faint yet fierce, they sped | |
| In packs to Genappe Bridge. | |
| |
| Safe was my stock; my capple cow unslain; | 125 |
| Intact each cock and hen; | |
| But Grouchy far at Wavre all day had lain, | |
| And thirty thousand men. | |
| |
| O Saints, had I but lost my earing corn | |
| And saved the cause once prized! | 130 |
| O Saints, why such false witness had I borne | |
| When late I’d sympathized!… | |
| |
| So, now, being old, my children eye askance | |
| My slowly dwindling store, | |
| And crave my mite; till, worn with tarriance, | 135 |
| I care for life no more. | |
| |
| To Almighty God henceforth I stand confessed, | |
| And Virgin-Saint Marie; | |
| O Michael, John, and Holy Ones in rest, | |
| Entreat the Lord for me! | 140 |
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