English poem
The Field of Waterloo, XXI
by Walter Scott
Period of honour as of woes, What bright careers ’twas thine to close!— Marked on thy roll of blood what names To Britain’s memory, and to Fame’s, Laid there their last immortal claims! Thou saw’st in seas of gore expire Redoubted PICTON’S soul of fire— Saw’st in the mingled carnage lie All that of PONSONBY could die— DE LANCEY change Love’s bridal-wreath For laurels from the hand of Death— Saw’st gallant MILLER’S failing eye Still bent where Albion’s banners fly, And CAMERON, in the shock of steel, Die like the offspring of Lochiel; And generous GORDON, ’mid the strife, Fall while he watched his leader’s life.— Ah! though her guardian angel’s shield Fenced Britain’s hero through the field. Fate not the less her power made known, Through his friends’ hearts to pierce his own!