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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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
When the tyrant of Gallia had broke his captive chain,
And threatened to scourge bleeding Europe again;
The genius of Freedom fled to his cavern hoar,
But the verdant tree of liberty bloom'd fair on our shore.
Then Wellington, with manly soul, Britannia's god of war,
Preferring death to base control, indignant rose afar,
With other leaders, skilled in arms, like lions bold and true,
They met the rebels clad in steel at dire Waterloo.
And threatened to scourge bleeding Europe again;
The genius of Freedom fled to his cavern hoar,
But the verdant tree of liberty bloom'd fair on our shore.
Then Wellington, with manly soul, Britannia's god of war,
Preferring death to base control, indignant rose afar,
With other leaders, skilled in arms, like lions bold and true,
They met the rebels clad in steel at dire Waterloo.
Loud the drum's thund'ring roll, and the trumpet's martial clang,
O'er the calm plains of Belgium discordantly rang;
By the dawning of morn, march'd the deep legions on,
Like a forest of steel far around Mount Saint John.
'Twas then the daring cuirassiers, in panoply immured,
'Gainst fate, and death, and British arms, did think themselves secured,
Till through their lines, with dreadful crash, our gallant heroes flew,
With dauntless hearts, and strength unmatch'd, at dire Waterloo.
O'er the calm plains of Belgium discordantly rang;
By the dawning of morn, march'd the deep legions on,
Like a forest of steel far around Mount Saint John.
'Twas then the daring cuirassiers, in panoply immured,
'Gainst fate, and death, and British arms, did think themselves secured,
Till through their lines, with dreadful crash, our gallant heroes flew,
With dauntless hearts, and strength unmatch'd, at dire Waterloo.
101
Soon the thunder of France in terrific peals awoke,
Quick our brave scarlet ranks darted through the rolling smoke,
The dense battle cloud dimm'd the bright orb of day,
While the earth shook with dread 'neath the direful affray.
Incessant reel'd the musketry, clear gleam'd the Polish lance,
Harsh peel'd the deep artillery of Britain and of France,
The dreadful charge of cavalry accordant horror threw
Upon the scene, the fatal plain of dire Waterloo.
Quick our brave scarlet ranks darted through the rolling smoke,
The dense battle cloud dimm'd the bright orb of day,
While the earth shook with dread 'neath the direful affray.
Incessant reel'd the musketry, clear gleam'd the Polish lance,
Harsh peel'd the deep artillery of Britain and of France,
The dreadful charge of cavalry accordant horror threw
Upon the scene, the fatal plain of dire Waterloo.
Not the raging tornado, nor simoom's fell sweep,
Extending destruction o'er desert and deep;
Nor earth-shaking Etna's eruption's red glare,
With lightning and thunder comixed, can compare
With the horrific havoc spread along the gory field,
When Gaul's determin'd warriors had to British arms to yield;
Far from the rampant lion's roar the imperial eagles flew,
And left the plain o'erspread with slain at dire Waterloo.
Extending destruction o'er desert and deep;
Nor earth-shaking Etna's eruption's red glare,
With lightning and thunder comixed, can compare
With the horrific havoc spread along the gory field,
When Gaul's determin'd warriors had to British arms to yield;
Far from the rampant lion's roar the imperial eagles flew,
And left the plain o'erspread with slain at dire Waterloo.
Repulsed and distracted, they fled o'er the plain,
Unable to hazard the combat again;
Through the terror-struck ranks, quick, this wild accent ran,—
“All is lost—ever lost! quickly fly, whoe'er can!”
What dreadful slaughter then ensued, when thus dismay'd by fear,
While loudly rang our heroes' blades upon their broken rear;
And those who miss'd their force and fire, most sadly yet shall rue
That ere they join'd the tyrant's flag at dire Waterloo.
Unable to hazard the combat again;
Through the terror-struck ranks, quick, this wild accent ran,—
“All is lost—ever lost! quickly fly, whoe'er can!”
What dreadful slaughter then ensued, when thus dismay'd by fear,
While loudly rang our heroes' blades upon their broken rear;
And those who miss'd their force and fire, most sadly yet shall rue
That ere they join'd the tyrant's flag at dire Waterloo.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |