The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction - Volume 10, No. 272, September 8, 1827 by Various
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page 14 of 48 (29%)
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stationed upon deck amidst the blood and slaughter of battle--the
shrieks of the wounded, and groans of the dying--or clinging to the shrouds during the tempestuous howling of the storm, while the wild waves were beating over me--whether coasting along the luxuriant shores of the Mediterranean, or surrounded by ice-bergs in the Polar sea,--one thought, one feeling possessed my soul, and that was devoted to the being I adored. Years rolled away; but that deep, strong, deathless passion distance could not subdue, nor old age founder. 'Tis now about seven years since the British troops under Wellington were landed on the Continent. I was employed with a party of seamen on shore in transporting the artillery and erecting batteries. A body of the French attacked one of our detachments, and, after considerable slaughter on both sides, the enemy were compelled to retreat. We were ordered to the field to bring in the wounded and prisoners. Never--never shall I forget that day: the remembrance even now unmans me. Oh, lady! forgive these tears, and pity the anguish of an old man's heart. Day had just began to dawn when we arrived upon the plain, and commenced our search among the bodies, to see if there were any who yet remained lingering in existence. Passing by and over heaps of dead, my progress was suddenly arrested, and every fibre of my heart was racked, on seeing a female sitting by the mangled remains of an English soldier. She was crouched upon the ground, her face resting on her lap, and every feature hid from view. Her long black hair hung in dishevelled flakes about her shoulders, and her garments closed round her person, heavy with the cold night-rains; one hand clasped that of the dead soldier, the other arm was thrown around his head. Every feeling of my soul was roused to exertion--I approached--she raised herself up, and--and--great Heaven! 'twas she--the woman whom I loved! She gazed with sickly horror; and, though greatly altered--though time and sorrow had chased away the bloom of health--though scarce a trace of former beauty remained, those |
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