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The town was enter'd. Oh Eternity! The free - born forest found and kept them “God made the country, and man made

free, the town,”

And fresh as is a torrent or a tree. So Cowper says- and I begin to be Of his opinion, when I see cast down Rome, Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh— And tall and strong and swift of foot were All walls men know, and many never known;

they, And, pondering on the present and the past, Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions, To deem the woods shall be our home at last. Because their thoughts had never been the

prey

Of care or gain: the green woods were their Of all men, saving Sylla the Man-slayer,

portions ; Who passes for in life and death most lucky, No sinking spirits told them they grew grey; of the great names which in our faces stare, No fashion made them apes of her distortions; The General Boon, back-woodsman of Simple they were, not savage; and their Kentucky,

rifles, Was happiest amongst mortals any where; Though very true, were not yet used for For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he

trifles. Enjoy'd the lonely, vigorous, harmless days Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze.

Motion was in their days, rest in their

slumbers, Crime came not near him - she is not the child And cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil; Of Solitude;Health shrank not from him_for Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers; Her home is in the rarely-trodden wild, Corruption could not make their hearts her Where if men seek her not,and death be more

soil; Their choice than life, forgive them, as The lust which stings, the splendour which beguiled

encumbers, By habit to what their own hearts abhor - With the free foresters divide no spoil; In cities caged. The present case in point I Serene, not sullen, were the solitudes Cite is, that Boon lived hunting up to ninety; Of this unsighing people of the woods.

And, what's still stranger, left behind a So much for Nature :by way of variety,

name,

Now back to thy great joys, Civilization ! For which men vainly decimate the throng, And the sweet consequence of large society, Not only famous, but of that good fame War, Pestilence, the despot's desolation, Without which Glory's but a tavern-song- The kingly scourge, the lust of notoriety, Simple, serene, the antipodes of shame, The millions slain by soldiers for their Which hate nor envy e'er could tinge with

ration, wrong ;

The scenes like Catherine's boudoir at three An active hermit, even in age the child

score, Of Nature, or the Man of Ross run wild. With Ismail's storm to soften it the more.

'Tis true he shrank from men, even of his The town was enter'd : first one column made

nation,

Its sanguinary way good—then another; When they built up unto his darling trees, The reeking bayonet and the flashing blade He moved some hundred miles off, for a Clash'd 'gainst the scimitar, and babe and station

mother Where there were fewer houses and more With distant shrieks were heard Heaven ease;

to upbraid ;The inconvenience of civilization

Still closer sulphury clouds began to smother Is, that you neither can be pleased nor please; The breath of morn and man, where, foot ere he met the individual man,

by foot, He shew'd himself as kind as mortal can. The madden'd Turks their city still dispute.

But,

He was not all alone: around him grew Koutousow, he who afterwards beat back A sylvan tribe of children of the chace, (With some assistance from the frost and Whose young, unwaken'd world was ever

snow) new,

Napoleon on his bold and bloody track, Nor sword nor sorrow yet had left a trace It happen'd was himself beat back just now. On her unwrinkled brow,nor could you view He was a jolly fellow, and could crack A frown on Nature's or on human face; - His jest alike in face of friend or foe,

Though life, and death, and victory were | Tho Turks at first pretended to have at stake

scamper'd, But here it seem'd his jokes had ceased to Only to draw them 'twixt iwo bastiontake:

corners, From whence they sallied on those Christian

scorners.

For, having thrown himself into a ditch,
Follow'd in haste by various grenadiers,
Whose blood the puddle greatly did enrich, Then being taken by the tail -a taking
He climb'd to where the parapet appears; Fatal to bishops as to soldiers—these
But there his project reach'd its utmost pitch, Cossacques were all cut off as day was
("Mongst other deaths the General Ribau-

breaking,
pierre's

And found their lives were let at a short Was much regretted) – for the Moslem men

leaseThrew them all down into the ditch again: But perish'd without shivering or shaking,

Leaving as ladders their heap'd carcases,

O'er which Lieutenant-Colonel Yesouskoi And, had it not been for some stray troops, March'd with the brave battalion of landing

Polouzki:They knew not where, – being carried by

the stream To soine spot, where they lost their This valiant man kill'd all the Turks he met,

understanding, But could not eat them, being in his turn And wander'd up and down as in a dream, Slain by some Mussulmans, who would not Until they reach'd, as day-break was

yet, expanding, Without resistance, see their city burn. That which a portal to theireyes did seem, The walls were won, but 'twas an even bet The great and gay Koutousow might have Which of the armies would have cause to

lain Where three parts of his column yet remain. 'Twas blow for blow,disputing inch by inch,

For one would not retreat, nor t'other flinch.

mourn :

And, scrambling round the rampart, these

same troops,

Another column also suffer'd much: After the taking of the “cavalier," And here we may remark with the historian, Just as Koutousow's most “Forlorn” of You should but give few cartridges to such

“Hopes"

Troops as are meant to march with greatest Took, like cameleons, some slight tinge

glory on: of fear,

When matters must be carried by the touch Opend the gate call'd “Kilia" to the groups of the bright bayonet, and they all should Of baffled heroes who stood shyly near,

hurry on, Sliding knee-deep in lately-frozen mud, They somotimes, with a hankering for Now thaw'd into a marsh of human blood.

existence,

Keep merely firing at a foolish distance. The Kozaks,or if so you please, Cossacques (I don't much pique myself upon ortho- A junction of the General Meknop's men

graphy,

(Without the General, who had fallen some So that I do not grossly err in facts,

time Statistics, tactics, politics,and geography)- Before, being badly seconded just then) Having been used to serve on horses' backs, Was made at length, with those who dared, And no great dilettanti in topography

to climb Of fortresses, but fighting where it pleases The death-disgorging rampart once again; Theirchiefs to order, - were all cut to pieces. And, though the Turk's resistance was

sublime,

They took the bastion, which the Seraskiet Their column, though the Turkish batteries Defended at a price extremely dear.

thunder'd Upon them, ne'ertheless had reach'd the

rampart,

Juan and Johnson, and some volunteers And naturally thought they could have Among the foremost, offer'd him good plunder'a

quarter, The city, without being further hamper’d; A word which little suits with Seraskiers, But, as it happens to brave men, they Or at least suited not this valiant Tartar.

blunder'd
He died, deserving well his country's tears,

more

A savage sort of military martyr.

Bat then the fact's a fact--and 'tis the part An English naval officer, who wish'd Of a true poet to escape from fiction To make him prisoner, was also dish'd : Whene'er he can; for there is little art

In leaving verse

free from the

restriction For all the answer to his proposition Of truth than prose, unless to suit the mart Was from a pistol-shot that laid him dead ; For what is sometimes call’d poetic diction, On which the rest, without more inter- And that outrageous appetite for lies

mission,

Which Satan angles with,for souls,like flies. Began to lay about with steel and lead ,The pious metals most in requisition On such occasions: not a single head The city's taken, but not render'd !-No! Was spared, – three thousand Moslems There's not a Moslem that hath yielded perish'd here,

sword : And sixteen bayonets pierced the Seraskier. The blood may gush out,as the Danube's flow

Rolls by the city-wall; but deed nor word

Acknowledge aught of dread of death or foe: The city 's taken-only part by part - In vain the yell of victory is roar'd And Death is drunk with gore: there's not By the advancing Muscovite—the groan

a street

of the last foe is echoed by his own. Where fights not to the last some desperate

heart For those for whom it soon shall cease to The bayonet pierces and the sabre cleaves,

beat.

And human lives are lavish'd every where, Here War forgot his own destructive art As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves In more destroying Nature; and the heat When the stripp'd forest bows to the bleak Of Carnage,like the Nile's sun-sodden slime,

air, Engender'd monstrous shapes of everyCrime. And groans;and thus the peopledCity grieves,

Shorn of its best and loveliest,and left bare ;

But still it falls with vast and awful splinters, A Russian officer, in martial tread

As oaks blown down with all their thousand Over a heap of bodies, felt his heel

winters. Seized fast, as if 'twere by the serpent's head, Whose fangs Eve taught her human seed

to feel.

It is an awful topic—but 'tis not
In vain he kick'd, and swore, and writhed, My cue for any time to be terrific:

and bled,

For checquer'd as is seen our human lot And howl'd for help as wolves do fora meal. With good,and bad,and worse, alike prolific The teeth still kept their gratifying hold, Of melancholy merriment, to quote As do the subtle srakes described of old. Too much of one sort would be soporific;

Without, or with, offence to friends or foes,

I sketch your world exactly as it goes. A dying Moslem, who had felt the foot Of a foe o'er him, snatch'd at it, and bit The very tendon, which is most acute And one good action in the midst of crimes (That which some ancient muse or modern Is "quite refreshing”-in the affected phrase

wit

Of these ambrosial, Pharisaic times, Named after thee, Achilles) and quite with all their pretty milk-and-water ways,

through't

And may serve therefore to bedew those He made the teeth meet, nor relinquish'd it

rhymes, Even with his life — for (but they lie) A little scorch'd at present with the blaze

'tis said

Of conquest and its consequences, which To the live leg still clung the sever'd head. Make Epic poesy so rare and rich.

However this may be, 'tis pretty sure Upon a taken bastion, where there lay
The Russian officer for life was lamed, Thousands of slaughter'd men, a yet warm
For the Turk's teeth stuck faster than a

group
skewer,

Of murder'd women, who had found their way And left him ʼmidst the invalid and maimed: To this vain refuge, made the good heart The regimental surgeon could not cure

droop His patient, and perhaps was to be blamed And shudder;—while, as beautiful as May, More than the head of the inveterate foe, A female child of ten years tried to stoop Which was cut off, and scarce even then And hide her little palpitating breast

Amidst the bodies lull'd in bloody rest.

let go.

dead,

Two villanous Cossacques parsued the child | Up Johnson came,with hundreds at his back, With flashing eyes and weapons: match Exclaiming :-“Juan! Juan! On,boy! brace

with them, Your arm, and I'll bet Moscow to a dollar, The rudest brute that roams Siberia's wild That you and I will win St. George's collar. Has feelings pure and polish'd as a gem,The bear is civilized, the wolf is mild: And whom for this at last must we condemn? The Seraskier is knockd upon the head, Their natures, or their sovereigns, who But the stone bastion still remains, wherein

employ

The old Pacha sits among some hundreds All arts to teach their subjects to destroy ?

Smoking his pipe quite calmly 'midst the din

Of our artillery and his own: 'tis said Their sabres glitter'd o'er her little head, Our kill'd, already piled up to the chin, Whence her fair hair rose twining with Lie round the battery; but still it batters,

affright,

And grape in volleys, like a vineyard, scatters. Her hidden face was plunged amidst the

dead: When Juan caught a glimpse of this sad sight, Then up with me!" — But Juan answerd, I shall not say exactly what he said

“Look Because it might not solace "ears polite;" Upon this child – I saved her - must not But what he did, was to lay on their backs,

leave The readiest way of reasoning with Cos- Her life to chance; but point me out some sacques.

nook of safety, where she less may shrink and

grieve, One's hip he slash'd, and split the others And I am with you."- WhereonJohnson took

shoulder,

A glance around — and shruggd – and And drove them with their brutal yells to

twitch'd his sleeve seek

And black silk neckcloth – and replied, If there might be chirurgeons who could

“You're right; solder

Poor thing! what's to be done? I'm puzzled The wounds they richly merited,and shriek

quite." Their baffled rage and pain; while waxing

colder As he turn'd o'er each pale and gory cheek, Said Juan—"Whatsoever is to be Don Juan raised his little captive from Done,I'll not quit her till she seems secure The heap a moment more had made her tomb. Of present life a good deal more than we.”.

QuothJohnson_"Neither will Iquite ensure.

But at the least you may die gloriously.” And she was chill as they, and on her face Juan replied—"At least I will endure A slender streak of blood announced how near Whate'er is to be borne-but not resign Her fate had been to that of all her race; This child, who is parentless, and therefore For the same blow which laid her mother

mine." here, Had scarred her brow, and left its crimson

trace

Johnson said—“Juan, we've no time to lose ; As the last link with all she had held dear; The child's a pretty child-a very prettyBut else unhurt, she open'd her large eyes, I never saw such eyes – but hark! now choose And gazed on Juan with a wild surprize. | Between your fame and feelings, pride and

pity :

Hark! how the roar increases ! -no excuse Just at this instant, while their eyes were fix'd Will serve when there is plunder in a city ; Upon each other, with dilated glance, I should be loth to march without you, but, InJuan's look,pain, pleasure, bope, fear,mix'd By God! we'll be too late for the first cut.” With joy to save,and dread of some mischance Unto his protegée; while her’s, transfix’d With infant terrors, glared as from a trance, But Juan was immoveable; until A pare, transparent, pale, yet radiant face, Johnson, who really loved him in his way, Like to a lighted alabaster-vase ;

Pick'd out amongst his followers with some

skill

Such as he thought the least given up to prey; Upcame JolinJohnson-(I will not say Jack,” | And swearing if the infant came to ill For that were vulgar,cold, and common-place That they shonld all be shot on the next day, On great occasions, such as an attack But if she were deliver'd safe and sound, On citics, as hath been the present case) They should at least have fisty roubles round;

curses

nurses.

And all allowances besides of plunder When they dispute with sceptics; and with In fair proportion with their comrades ;

then

Struck at his friends, as babies beat their Juan consented to march on through thunder, Which thinn'd at every step their ranks

of men : And yet the rest rush'd eagerly-no wonder, Nay, he had wounded, though but slightly, For they were heated by the hope of gain,

both A thing which happens every where each day Juan and Johnson; whereupon they fell No Hero trusteth wholly to half-pay. The first with sighs, the second with an oath,

Upon his angry Sultanship, pell-mell,

And all around were grown exceeding wroth And such is victory, and such is man! At such a pertinacious infidel, At least nine-tenths of what wecall so;—God And pour'd upon him and his sons like rain, May have another name for half we scan Which they resisted like a sandy plain As human beings, or his ways are odd. But to our subject: a brave Tartar-Khan,Or “Sultan," as the author (to whose nod That drinks and still is dry. At last they In prose 1 bend my humble verse) doth call

perish'd :This chieftain-somehow would not yield His second son was levellid by a shot;

at all :
His third was sabred; and the fourth, most

cherish'd

Of all the five, on bayonets met his lot; But, flank'd by five brave sons (such is The fifth , who, by a Christian mother polygamy,

nourish'd, That she spawns warriors by the score, Had been neglected, ill-used, and what not,

where none Because deform’d, yet died all game and Are prosecuted for that false crime bigamy)

bottom, He never would believe the city won To save a wire who blush'd that he begot him. While courage clung but to a single twig.–

Am I Describing Priam's, Peleus', or Jove's son? The eldest was a true and tameless Tartar, Neither,- but a good, plain, old, temperate As great a scorner of the Nazarene

man,

As ever Mahomet pick'd out for a martyr, Who fought with his fivechildren in the van. Who only saw the black-eyed girls in green,

Who make the beds of those who won't

take quarter To take him was the point. The truly brave, On Earth, in Paradise; and, when once seen, When they behold-the brave oppress’d' with Those Houris,like all other pretty creatures,

odds,

Do just whate'er they please, by dint of Are touch'd with a desire to shield and save;

features. A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods Are they-now furious as the sweeping

wave,

And what they pleased to do with the young Now moved with pity:even as sometimes nods

Khan The rugged tree unto the summer-wind, In Heaven, I know not, nor pretend to guess; Compassion breathes along the savage mind. But doubtless they prefer a fine young man

To tough old heroes, and can do no less;

And that's the cause, no doubt, why, if we But he would not be taken, and replied To all the propositions of surrender A field of battle's ghastly wilderness, By mowing Christians down on every side, For one rough,weather-beaten,veteran body, As obstinate as Swedish Charles at Bender. You'll find ten thousand handsome coxcoinbs His five brave boys no less the foe defied;

bloody. Whereon theRussian pathos grew less tender, As being a virtue, like terrestrial patience, Apt to wear out on trifling provocations. Your Houris also have a natural pleasure

In lopping off your lately married men

Before the bridal hours have danced their And spite of Johnson and of Juan, who

measure, Expended all their Eastern phraseology And the sad, second moon grows dim again, In begging him, for God's sake, just to show Or dull Repentance hath had dreary leisure So much less fight as might form an apology To wish him back a bachelor now and then. For them in saving such a desperate foe- And thus your Houri (it may be) disputes He hewd away, like doctors of theology of these brief blossopis the immediate fruits.

scan

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