Or whispering, with white lips,--"The foe! they come!
they come!"

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave,--alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure; when this fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low!

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms,--the day
Battle's magnificently stern array!
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent
The earth is cover'd thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover--heap'd and pent,
Rider and horse,--friend, foe,--in one red burial blent!

BYRON.



[Notes:_Waterloo_. Fought, 1815, between Napoleon on one side, and
Wellington and Blucher (the Prussian General) on the other. Its result
was the defeat of Napoleon, and his imprisonment by the Allies in St.