Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Germany: Vols. XVII–XVIII. 1876–79.
Incident of the French Camp
By Robert Browning (1812–1889)Y
A mile or so away,
On a little mound, Napoléon
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.
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.
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.
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.
Softened itself, as sheaths
A film the mother eagle’s eye
When her bruised eaglet breathes:
“You ’re wounded!” “Nay,” his soldier’s pride
Touched to the quick, he said:
“I ’m killed, sire!” And, his chief beside,
Smiling the boy fell dead.