CHAPTER III.

Now far on the horizon the Prussians appear; The Emperor cries, “Grouchy is coming, is near.” This to reanimate his divisions once more, By repeated reverses grown doubtful and sore. The cuirassiers are advancing with Milhaud again, And columns on the left of the Duke fall in vain. All along the vast lines falls fast the iron rain, And the pale dead by thousands encumber the plain. Grand cavalry charges sweep “death’s valley” between-- Like fatal whirlwinds of wrath they glitter and gleam. Crashing volleys from the steadfast infantry pour, And from both lines of torn hills the guns madly roar. Vast clouds of sulphurous smoke shroud the scene, And the wounded by thousands in agony scream!

Ha! the Household Brigade meet the French Cuirassiers; Like an avalanche they charge with three ringing cheers; Like eagles they swoop down on that steel-clad brigade-- Oh, the flash of their sabres, and the havoc they made! Crushed and bleeding the cuirassiers turn and fly, Leaving squadrons of slain, and their wounded to die. Fresh masses now attack La Haye Sainte once more; Hougomont still resounds to the murderous roar Of attacking lines, sacrificing thousands in vain, For the bloodstained chateau they never shall gain.

The Emperor now seeks to hurl a crushing blow, And flings his cavalry _en masse_ on the foe; Hoping still the Duke’s grand centre to penetrate, On the verge and vast ruin of impending fate. The famous Kellermann directs this splendid array, Trusting the result will decide the fate of the day. But the Duke comprehends. See his flashing gray eyes! From line and from columns the command swiftly flies, “Into square! into square! across the valley again Comes the cavalry _en masse_ to charge us amain! To the guns! to the guns! rend their columns asunder; Shake the earth once again; let Napoleon wonder What manner of men he hath met here to-day. Keep your ranks, hold your squares in invincible array!” Steady the clans of Scotia sound the slogan once more. Let it stir ye as never it stirred ye before. Let Erin’s hurrah through the storm fiercely break; Gallant souls, whose courage even death cannot shake. Art still calm, Britain’s sons, proudly waiting the shock? Aye, calm and cool, though the earth doth tremble and rock; Though rent your firm squares, and thinned your red lines, Ye are dauntless still; on your grim faces shines An unconquerable light, flashing everywhere, Firm as the abiding hills, shaken not by despair.

Steady now, fearless hearts! See, the foe proudly comes, Rolling on in huge masses where thunder the guns That leap from the very earth in maddening roar. And grape, shot and shell devastatingly tore Through Kellermann’s vast squadrons of horse, coming on Steadily and gallantly, though thousands had gone Down in the awful struggle, mangled and torn, Since the opening glory of the summer morn. They come, they come, in magnificent array! And the gunners from their guns are driven away. Like a whirlwind they charge on the devoted squares Which Kellermann hoped to have caught unawares. But they are ready; and before their bristling steel The imperial squadrons now stagger and reel!

Round and round those stern squares they sweep madly in vain, Falling there thick and fast in the withering rain Of incessant volleys, that on them ruthlessly pour From the heroic squares that are bleeding and sore. And those famous steel-clad warriors of France fall fast, Smitten and riven by the hot devouring blast. They fall back--charge forward--and repeat it again, Till the reddened earth is pent with their gallant slain. But at last they fly from their ruinous sore defeat, All mangled and broken and ruined complete. From the firm squares the gunners rush forward once more, And again the hot guns madly thunder and roar. Thus all Napoleon’s heavy horse at Waterloo Was destroyed in attempts those squares to break through. As the sea waves that rush on an iron-bound shore, They rolled on the Duke, broke, and fled back once more.