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   English Poetry II: From Collins to Fitzgerald.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.
 
461. Hohenlinden
 
Thomas Campbell (1777–1844)
 
 
ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
And dark as winter was the flow
    Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
 
But Linden saw another sight,        5
When the drum beat at dead of night
Commanding fires of death to light
    The darkness of her scenery.
 
By torch and trumpet fast array’d
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,        10
And furious every charger neigh’d
    To join the dreadful revelry.
 
Then shook the hills with thunder riven;
Then rush’d the steed, to battle driven;
And louder than the bolts of Heaven        15
    Far flash’d the red artillery.
 
But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden’s hills of staine´d snow;
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
    Of Iser, rolling rapidly.        20
 
‘Tis morn; but scarce yon revel sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
    Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
 
The combat deepens. On, ye Brave        25
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave,
    And charge with all thy chivalry!
 
Few, few shall part, where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,        30
And every turf beneath their feet
    Shall be a soldier’s sepulchre.
 

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