Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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STANZAS COMPOSED ON READING THE ACCOUNT OF THE Execution of Marshal Ney. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
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STANZAS COMPOSED ON READING THE ACCOUNT OF THE Execution of Marshal Ney.
Why floats the sigh of deepest woe
Through Paris streets—oh! tell me why?
From every faltering tongue doth flow,
“To-morrow dies brave Marshal Ney!”
Through Paris streets—oh! tell me why?
From every faltering tongue doth flow,
“To-morrow dies brave Marshal Ney!”
Ill-fated chief! is this the boon
That destiny now gives to thee?
Black death! at manhood's glorious noon,
Who strovest to set thy nation free.
That destiny now gives to thee?
Black death! at manhood's glorious noon,
Who strovest to set thy nation free.
Yes, tyrant power thy fate proclaims;
To-morrow seals thy hapless lot;
But Freedom's sons shall mark their names
Who did condemn thee to be shot!
To-morrow seals thy hapless lot;
But Freedom's sons shall mark their names
Who did condemn thee to be shot!
Methinks, in the tribunal's hall,
I see thee dauntless hear thy doom,
And, hopeless, by their villain thrall,
Consign'd to the ignoble tomb.
I see thee dauntless hear thy doom,
And, hopeless, by their villain thrall,
Consign'd to the ignoble tomb.
Yet from futurity's dark land
These accents fall upon my ear,
Sung by bright Freedom's angel band,
While trickling drops grief's deepest tear:—
These accents fall upon my ear,
Sung by bright Freedom's angel band,
While trickling drops grief's deepest tear:—
“Solemn, let us nightly tread
Round the ashes of the dead:
By the sable yew and tomb
'Neath the ebon cypress gloom,
We will wail, till rising day
Chase night's spectres all away:
Hither let no stranger come
Till the beat of morning drum:
Weep we will, with sorrow deep,
For him who underneath doth sleep.
Oft he heard the cannon's rattle
In the hard contested battle;
Oft he for his country's weal
Felt the foe's indignant steel;
And still did act the patriot's part,
For Freedom flamed within his heart.
Brave he fought, nor fear'd to die;
Ever was the last to fly;
When the combat fierce began,
He was seen upon the van;
When the trumpet rang defeat,
In the rear he did retreat;
And that day to the flag was true,
When war eternised Waterloo.”
Round the ashes of the dead:
By the sable yew and tomb
'Neath the ebon cypress gloom,
We will wail, till rising day
Chase night's spectres all away:
Hither let no stranger come
Till the beat of morning drum:
Weep we will, with sorrow deep,
For him who underneath doth sleep.
Oft he heard the cannon's rattle
In the hard contested battle;
Oft he for his country's weal
Felt the foe's indignant steel;
And still did act the patriot's part,
For Freedom flamed within his heart.
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Ever was the last to fly;
When the combat fierce began,
He was seen upon the van;
When the trumpet rang defeat,
In the rear he did retreat;
And that day to the flag was true,
When war eternised Waterloo.”
Thus, long before the death-bell rang
To wake his grief-clad mourners all,
The dulcet choir his ditty sang
In sorrow's black escutcheon'd hall.
To wake his grief-clad mourners all,
The dulcet choir his ditty sang
In sorrow's black escutcheon'd hall.
Now thousands, mourning, crowd the streets,
And for their hapless leader sigh;
Each gen'rous soul his fellow greets,
While tears responsive fill each eye.
And for their hapless leader sigh;
Each gen'rous soul his fellow greets,
While tears responsive fill each eye.
Alone, undaunted, he appear'd,
Nor symptom show'd of inward woe,
Save for the cause so much revered,
Which oft raised feeling's deepest throe;
Nor symptom show'd of inward woe,
Save for the cause so much revered,
Which oft raised feeling's deepest throe;
And for his family's dreaded fate,
Protectorless amidst the world,
Where haply none durst mind their state—
Thus might they be to ruin hurled.
Protectorless amidst the world,
Where haply none durst mind their state—
Thus might they be to ruin hurled.
See! now the fatal hour is come;
He stands before the ruthless band:
Hark! there's the signal of the drum—
And all in mute suspense doth stand.
He stands before the ruthless band:
Hark! there's the signal of the drum—
And all in mute suspense doth stand.
The hero, with majestic mien,
Points to his heart; says, “Soldiers, fire!”
Obey'd—he drops upon the green,
And doth without a sigh expire!
Points to his heart; says, “Soldiers, fire!”
Obey'd—he drops upon the green,
And doth without a sigh expire!
He's gone!—but yet his injured sprite
Stalks unrevenged throughout the land;
His blood yet on their heads shall light,
And Freedom's flag wave direly grand!
Stalks unrevenged throughout the land;
His blood yet on their heads shall light,
And Freedom's flag wave direly grand!
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |