The Field of Waterloo, XVI

List—frequent to the hurrying rout, The stern pursuers’ vengeful shout Tells, that upon their broken rear Rages the Prussian’s bloody spear. So fell a shriek was none, When Beresina’s icy flood Reddened and thawed with flame and blood, And, pressing on thy desperate way, Raised oft and long their wild hurra, The children of the Don. Thine ear no yell of horror cleft So ominous, when, all bereft Of aid, the valiant Polack left— Ay, left by thee—found soldiers grave In Leipsic’s corpse-encumbered wave. Fate, in those various perils past, Reserved thee still some future cast; On the dread die thou now hast thrown Hangs not a single field alone, Nor one campaign—thy martial fame, Thy empire, dynasty, and name Have felt the final stroke; And now, o’er thy devoted head The last stern vial’s wrath is shed, The last dread seal is broke.