Poems, Epigrams and Sonnets By R. E. Egerton-Warburton |
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BALLAD. |
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| I. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
 | Poems, Epigrams and Sonnets |  |
3
BALLAD.
[_]
The occurrence here related took place near the village of Gressenig, about a league from Stolberg, during the retreat of the French army, under Dumouriez.
I
Back to the river so lately pass'd o'er,Fast as that river flows,
France takes flight to the Rhine once more
From the might of her Austrian foes.
II
There was a young and lovely bride'Mid the ranks of those that fled;
She follow'd the steps and she fought by the side
Of him she had lately wed.
III
She had left her home in that fertile soilWhere the vine and the olive grow,
For fields of blood, and to share in the toil
That her lover must undergo.
IV
Alas! that love which had nerved her heartTo war and its daring deeds,
Could not to her tender frame impart
The strength a soldier needs.
36
V
Now linger'd that youth with his bride in the rear,For her limbs began to fail,
And the hue of her cheek, tho' unchanged by fear,
With weariness grew pale.
VI
He look'd on her features in fond despair,As he held her to his breast;
And her drooping head as they tarried there,
Sunk in his arms to rest.
VII
From that hurried sleep when she woke again,Far from her anxious sight
The distant bands of her countrymen
Had vanish'd in their flight.
VIII
Then together they left the beaten track,And sought the forest shade:
She wish'd from that host not a soldier back,
While her own stood by to aid.
IX
Hid from the search of pursuers there,For days and nights they sped;
The fruits of the forest their only fare,
The leaves their only bed.
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X
Fondly they thought that those paths might guideOnce more to their native land;
Vain hope! what sees that startled bride?
Why grasps she her lover's hand?
XI
'Tis the levell'd gun of a foeman near,Half hid by the copsewood screen;—
She clung, as a shield, to that breast so dear,
And the fatal flash was seen!
XII
They fell—their heart's blood stain'd the spotWhere yon lonely cypress grows;
Their bodies, pierced by that single shot,
In a single grave repose.
| Poems, Epigrams and Sonnets | |