| |
| NOW spake the Emperor to all his shining battle forces, | |
| To the Lancers, and the Rifles, to the Gunners and the Horses;— | |
| And his pride surged up within him as he saw their banners stream!— | |
| “’T is a twelve-day march to Paris, by the road our fathers travelled, | |
| And the prize is half an empire when the scarlet road’s unravelled— | 5 |
| |
| Go you now across the border, | |
| God’s decree and William’s order— | |
| Climb the frowning Belgian ridges | |
| With your naked swords agleam! | |
| Seize the City of the Bridges— | 10 |
| Then get on, get on to Paris— | |
| To the jewelled streets of Paris— | |
| To the lovely woman, Paris, that has driven me to dream!” | |
| |
| A hundred thousand fighting men | |
| They climbed the frowning ridges, | 15 |
| With their flaming swords drawn free | |
| And their pennants at their knee. | |
| They went up to their desire, | |
| To the City of the Bridges, | |
| With their naked brands outdrawn | 20 |
| Like the lances of the dawn! | |
| In a swelling surf of fire, | |
| Crawling higher—higher—higher— | |
| Till they crumpled up and died | |
| Like a sudden wasted tide, | 25 |
| And the thunder in their faces beat them down and flung them wide! | |
| |
| They had paid a thousand men, | |
| Yet they formed and came again, | |
| For they heard the silver bugles sounding challenge to their pride, | |
| And they rode with swords agleam | 30 |
| For the glory of a dream, | |
| And they stormed up to the cannon’s mouth and withered there, and died…. | |
| |
| The daylight lay in ashes | |
| On the blackened western hill, | |
| And the dead were calm and still; | 35 |
| But the Night was torn with gashes— | |
| Sudden ragged crimson gashes— | |
| And the siege-guns snarled and roared, | |
| With their flames thrust like a sword, | |
| And the tranquil moon came riding on the heaven’s silver ford. | 40 |
| |
| What a fearful world was there, | |
| Tangled in the cold moon’s hair! | |
| Man and beast lay hurt and screaming, | |
| (Men must die when Kings are dreaming!)— | |
| While within the harried town | 45 |
| Mothers dragged their children down | |
| As the awful rain came screaming, | |
| For the glory of a Crown! | |
| |
| So the Morning flung her cloak | |
| Through the hanging pall of smoke— | 50 |
| Trimmed with red, it was, and dripping with a deep and angry stain! | |
| And the Day came walking then | |
| Through a lane of murdered men, | |
| And her light fell down before her like a Cross upon the plain! | |
| But the forts still crowned the height | 55 |
| With a bitter iron crown! | |
| They had lived to flame and fight, | |
| They had lived to keep the Town! | |
| And they poured their havoc down | |
| All that day … and all that night…. | 60 |
| |
| While four times their number came, | |
| Pawns that played a bloody game!— | |
| With a silver trumpeting, | |
| For the glory of the King, | |
| To the barriers of the thunder and the fury of the flame! | 65 |
| |
| So they stormed the iron Hill, | |
| O’er the sleepers lying still, | |
| And their trumpets sang them forward through the dull succeeding dawns, | |
| But the thunder flung them wide, | |
| And they crumpled up and died,— | 70 |
| They had waged the war of monarchs—and they died the death of pawns. | |
| |
| But the forts still stood…. Their breath | |
| Swept the foeman like a blade, | |
| Though ten thousand men were paid | |
| To the hungry purse of Death, | 75 |
| Though the field was wet with blood, | |
| Still the bold defences stood, | |
| Stood! | |
| |
| And the King came out with his bodyguard at the day’s departing gleam— | |
| And the moon rode up behind the smoke and showed the King his dream. | 80 |
| |
