The Field of Waterloo, VI

Ay, look again—that line, so black And trampled, marks the bivouac, Yon deep-graved ruts the artillery’s track, So often lost and won; And close beside, the hardened mud Still shows where, fetlock-deep in blood, The fierce dragoon, through battle’s flood, Dashed the hot war-horse on. These spots of excavation tell The ravage of the bursting shell— And feel’st thou not the tainted steam, That reeks against the sultry beam, From yonder trenchéd mound? The pestilential fumes declare That Carnage has replenished there Her garner-house profound.