(This metaphor. I think, holds good as aught,
Since there is discord after both, at least):
There was not now a luggage-boy but sought
Danger and spoil with ardour much increased;
And why? because a little-odd-old man,
Stript to his shirt, was come to lead the van.

L.

But so it was; and every preparation
Was made with all alacrity: the first
Detachment of three columns took its station,
And waited but the signal's voice to burst
Upon the foe: the second's ordination

Was also in three columns, with a thirst For glory, gaping o'er a sea of slaughter: The third, in columns two, attack'd by water.

LI.

New batteries were erected, and was held
A general council, in which unanimity,
That stranger to most councils, here prevail'd,
As sometimes happens in a great extremity;
And every difficulty being dispell'd,

Glory began to dawn with due sublimity,
While Souvaroff, determined to obtain it,
Was teaching his recruits to use the bayonet.*

LII.

It is an actual fact, that he, commander

In-chief, in proper person deign'd to drill
The awkward squad, and could afford to squander
His time, a corporal's duty to fulfil;
Just as you'd break a sucking salamander

To swallow flame, and never take it ill:
He show'd them how to mount a ladder (which
Was not like Jacob's), or to cross a ditch.

LIII.

Also he dress'd up, for the nonce, fascines

Like men, with turbans, scimitars, and dirks, And made them charge with bayonet these machines,

By way of lesson against actual Turks. And when well practised in these mimic scenes, He judged them proper to assail the works; At which your wise men sneer'd in phrases witty: He made no answer, but he took the city.

LIV.

Most things were in this posture on the eve
Of the assault, and all the camp was in
A stern repose, which you would scarce conceive:
Yet men resolved to dash through thick and thin,
Are very silent when they once believe

That all is settled: there was little din,

For some were thinking of their home and friends, And others of themselves and latter ends.

L.V.

Suwarrow chiefly was on the alert,

Surveying, drilling, ordering, jesting, pondering: For the man was, we safely may assert,

A thing to wonder at beyond most wondering: Hero, buffoon, half-demon, and half-dirt,

Praying, instructing, desolating, plundering; Now Mars, now Momus; and when bent to storm A fortress, harlequin in uniform.

Fact; Suwarrow did this in person.

LVI.

The day before the assault, while upon drill-
For this great conqueror play'd the corporal-
Some Cossacques, hovering like hawks round a hill,
Had met a party, towards the twilight's fall,
One of whom spoke their tongue-or well or ill,
'Twas much that he was understood at all;
But whether from his voice, or speech, or manner,
They found that he had fought beneath their
banner.

LVII.

Whereon immediately, at his request,

They brought him and his comrades to headquarters;

Their dress was Moslem, but you might have guess'd
That these were merely masquerading Tartars,
And that beneath each Turkish-fashion'd vest
Lurk'd Christianity; which sometimes barters
Her inward grace for outward show, and makes
It difficult to shun some strange mistakes.

LVIII.

Suwarrow, who was standing in his shirt, Before a company of Calmucks, drilling, Exclaiming, fooling, swearing at the inert, And lecturing on the noble art of killingFor, deeming human clay but common dirt,

This great philosopher was thus instilling His maxims, which, to martial comprehension, Proved death in battle equal to a pension,

LIX.

Suwarrow, when he saw this company

Of Cossacques and their prey, turn'd round, and

cast

Upon them his slow brow and piercing eye :'Whence come ye?'-' From Constantinople last; Captives just now escaped,' was the reply.

What are ye? What you see us. Briefly
pass'd

This dialogue; for he who answer'd, knew
To whom he spoke, and made his words but few.
LX.

'Your names?- Mine's Johnson, and my com rade's Juan;

The other two are women; and the third

Is neither man nor woman.' The chief threw on The party a slight glance, and said, I have heard

Your name before, the second is a new one:

To bring the other three here was absurd. But let that pass: I think I've heard your name In the Nikolaiew regiment?'-' The same.'

LXI.

'You served at Widdin ?-'Yes.'-' You led the attack?'

'I did.'-'What next?'-' I really hardly know.''You were the first i' the breach ?'-'I was not slack

At least to follow those who might be so." What follow'd?- A shot laid me on my back, And I became a prisoner to the foe.'

'You shall have vengeance! for the town surrounded

Is twice as strong as that where you were wounded.

LXII.

Where will you serve?'-'Where'er you please.'

-'I know

You like to be the hope of the forlorn,
And doubtless would be foremost on the foe,
After the hardships you've already borne;
And this young fellow-say, what can he do?

He with the beardless chin and garments torn?' 'Why, general, if he hath no greater fault

In war than love, he had better lead the assault,' LXIII.

'He shall, if that he dare.' Here Juan bow'd Low, as the compliment deserved. Suwarrow Continued: 'Your old regiment's allow'd,

By special providence, to lead to-morrow, Or it may be to-night, the assault: I have vow'd To several saints, that shortly plough or harrow Shall pass o'er what was Ismail, and its tusk Be unimpeded by the proudest mosque. LXIV.

'So now, my lads, for glory! Here he turn'd And drill'd away in the most classic Russian, Until each high, heroic bosom burn'd

For cash and conquest, as if from a cushion
A preacher had held forth (who nobly spurn'd
All earthly goods save tithes), and bade them
push on

To slay the Pagans who resisted, battering
The armies of the Christian Empress Catharine.

LXV.

Johnson, who knew by this long colloquy
Himself a favourite, ventur'd to address
Suwarrow, though engaged, with accents high,
In his resumed amusement. 'I confess
My debt in being thus allow'd to die

Among the foremost; but if you'd express
Explicitly our several posts, my friend
And self would know what duty to attend.
LXVI.

'Right: I was busy, and forgot. Why, you
Will join your former regiment, which should be
Now under arms. Ho! Katskoff, take him to
(Here he call'd up a Polish orderly)
His post, I mean the regiment Nikolaiew.

The stranger stripling may remain with me:
He's a fine boy. The women may be sent
To the other baggage, or to the sick tent.'

LXVII.

But here a sort of scene began to ensue :
The ladies-who by no means had been bred
To be disposed of in a way so new,
Although their harem education led
Doubtless to that of doctrines the most true,
Passive obedience-now raised up the head,
With flashing eyes and starting tears, and flung
Their arms, as hens their wings about their young,

LXVIII.

O'er the promoted couple of brave men,

Who were thus honour'd by the greatest chief That ever peopled hell with heroes slain,

Or plunged a province or a realm in grief. O foolish mortals! always taught in vain!

O glorious laurel since for one sole leaf

Of thine imaginary deathless tree,

Of blood and tears must flow the unebbing sea.
LXIX.

Suwarrow, who had small regard for tears,
And not much sympathy for blood, survey'd
The women with their hair about their ears,
And natural agonies, with a slight shade
Of feeling; for, however habit sears

Men's hearts against whole millions, when their trade

Is butchery, sometimes a single sorrow
Will touch even heroes-and such was Suwarrow.
LXX.

He said-and in the kindest Calmuck tone-
Why, Johnson, what the devil do you mean
By bringing women here? They shall be shown
All the attention possible, and seen

In safety to the waggons, where alone

In fact they can be safe. You should have been Aware this kind of baggage never thrives: Save wed a year, I hate recruits with wives.'

LXXI.

'May it please your excellency,' thus replied
Our British friend, 'these are the wives of others,
And not our own. I am too qualified

By service with my military brothers,
To break the rules by bringing one's own bride
Into a camp: I know that nought so bothers
The hearts of the heroic, on a charge,
As leaving a small family at large.

LXXII.

'But these are but two Turkish ladies, who,
With their attendant, aided our escape,
And afterwards accompanied us through
A thousand perils, in this dubious shape:
To me this kind of life is not so new;

To them, poor things, it is an awkward scrape:
I therefore, if you wish me to fight freely,
Request that they may both be used genteelly.

LXXIII.

Meantime these two poor girls, with swimming eyes,
Look'd on as if in doubt if they could trust
Their own protectors; nor was their surprise
Less than their grief (and truly not less just)
To see an old man, rather wild than wise

In aspect, plainly clad, besmear'd with dust,
Stript to his waistcoat, and that not too clean,
More fear'd than all the sultans ever seen.

LXXIV.

For everything seem'd resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustom'd, as a sort of god,

To see the Sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad

(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem) With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt How power could condescend to do without.

LXXV.

John Johnson, seeing their extreme dismay,

Though little versed in feelings oriental, Suggested some slight comfort in his way. Don Juan, who was much more sentimental,

Swore they should see him by the dawn of day,

Or that the Russian army should repent all : And, strange to say, they found some consolation In this for females like exaggeration.

LXXVI.

And then with tears, and sighs, and some slight kisses,

They parted for the present-these to await, According to the artillery's hits or misses,

What sages call Chance, Providence, or Fate (Uncertainty is one of many blisses,

A mortgage on Humanity's estate),
While their beloved friends began to arm,
To burn a town which never did them harm.
LXXVII.

Suwarrow-who but saw things in the gross,
Being much too gross to see them in detail;
Who calculated life as so much dross,

And as the wind a widow'd nation's wail,
And cared as little for his army's loss

(So that their efforts should at length prevail)
As wife and friends did for the boils of Job-
What was 't to him to hear two women sob?
LXXVIII.

Nothing. The work of glory still went on
In preparations for a cannonade
As terrible as that of Ilion,

If Homer had found mortars ready made;
But now, instead of slaying Priam's son,
We only can but talk of escalade, [bullets;
Bombs, drums, guns, bastions, batteries, bayonets,
Hard words, which stick in the soft Muses' gullets.

LXXIX.

O thou eternal Homer! who couldst charm

All ears, though long; all ages, though so short, By merely wielding, with poetic arm,

Arms to which men will never more resort, Unless gunpowder should be found to harm Much less than is the hope of every court, Which now is leagued young freedom to annoy ; But they will not find Liberty a Troy ;LXXX.

O thou eternal Homer! I have now

To paint a siege, wherein more men were slain, With deadlier engines and a speedier blow, Than in thy Greek gazette of that campaign And yet, like all men else, I must allow,

To vie with thee would be about as vain As for a brook to cope with ocean's flood; But still we moderns equal you in blood;

LXXXI.

If not in poetry, at least in fact;

And fact is truth, the grand desideratum! Of which, howe'er the Muse describes each act, There should be ne'ertheless a slight substratum. But now the town is going to be attack'd;

Great deeds are doing-how shall I relate 'em? Souls of immortal generals! Phoebus watches To colour up his rays from your despatches.

Medals, rank, ribands, lace, embroidery, scarlet, Are things immortal to immortal man,

As purple to the Babylonian harlot :

An uniform to boys is like a fan

To women; there is scarce a crimson varlet
But deems himself the first in Glory's van.

But Glory's glory; and if you would find
What that is-ask the pig who sees the wind!
LXXXV.

At least he feels it, and some say he sees,
Because he runs before it like a pig ;
Or, if that simple sentence should displease,
Say that he scuds before it, like a brig,

A schooner, or-but it is time to cease

This canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue: The next shall ring a peal to shake all people, Like a bob-major from a village steeple.

LXXXVI.

Hark! through the silence of the cold, dull night,
The hum of armies gathering rank on rank!
Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight

Along the leaguer'd wall and bristling bank
Of the arm'd river, while with straggling light
The stars peep through the vapours dim and
dank,

Which curl in curious wreaths: how soon the smoke Of hell shall pall them in a deeper cloak!

LXXXVII.

Here pause we for the present-as even then That awful pause, dividing life from death, Struck for an instant on the hearts of men, Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath!

A moment-and all will be life again!

The march the charge! the shouts of either faith!

Hurrah! and Allah! and-one moment more-
The death-cry drowning in the battle's rear,