70 75 80 85 90 95 While the fields were green, and the sky 115 Put his trust in his fortune, and not in was blue, Morbleu! Parbleu! But to march back again from Moscow. The Russians they stuck close to him All on the road from Moscow. There was Tormazow and Jemalow And all the others that end in ow; Milarodovitch and Jaladovitch And Karatschkowitch, And all the others that end in itch; And all the others that end in eff; And Tchoglokoff, And all the others that end in off; And all the others that end in effsky; his God, Worse and worse every day the ele- The fields so white and the sky so blue, What a horrible journey from Moscow! 125 130 135 140 Morbleu! Parbleu! He stole away, I tell you true, Upon the road from Moscow. 'Tis myself, quoth he, I must mind most; So the Devil may take the hindmost. Too cold upon the road was he, Too hot had he been at Moscow; But colder and hotter he may be, For the grave is colder than Muscovy: And a place there is to be kept in view Where the fire is red and the brimstone blue, Morbleu! Parbleu! If the Pope say true, If he does not in time look about him; He may have for his Host, He has reckon 'd too long without him; glory; But there he must stay for a very long day. For from thence there is no stealing away 150 As there was on the road from Moscow. 1 French oaths. 2 After being successful in a number of engagements against Napoleon in the winter of 181314, the allies made proposals for peace. 20 25 If this heroic land, False to her feelings and unspotted fame, For by what names shall right and What new and courtly phrases must we feign For falsehood, murder, and all mon- If that perfidious Corsican maintain And France, who yearns even now to Beneath his iron rule be left to groan? 30 Death only can for his foul deeds atone; That peace which Death and Judgment can bestow, That peace be Buonaparte's, that alone! For sooner shall the Ethiop change his skin, Or from the leopard shall her spots depart,1 35 Than this man change his old flagitious heart. 45 50 55 Bold man and bad, Remorseless, godless, full of fraud And black with murders and with Himself in Hell's whole panoply he clad; No counsellor but his own wicked heart. From evil thus portentous strength he drew, 60 And trampled under foot all human ties, All holy laws, all natural charities. O France! beneath this fierce barba- Disgraced thou art to all succeeding Rapine, and blood, and fire have mark'd thy way, 65 All loathsome, all unutterable crimes. A curse is on thee, France! from far and wide 70 75 It hath gone up to Heaven. All lands have cried For vengeance upon thy detested head! All nations curse thee, France! for wheresoe'er In peace or war thy banner hath All forms of human woe have follow'd there. The living and the dead Cry out alike against thee! They who bear, Crouching beneath its weight, thine iron yoke, Join in the bitterness of secret prayer The voice of that innumerable throng, Whose slaughter'd spirits day and night invoke The Everlasting Judge of right and wrong. 1 See Paradise Lost, 4, 108. 100 Greedy of war, when all that thou Was but to dye thy soul with deeper crime, God's justice, and the heart of human kind! Thyself the while a miserable slave. Behold the flag of vengeance is unfurl'd! The dreadful armies of the North advance; While England, Portugal, and Spain combined, Give their triumphant banners to the wind, And stand victorious in the fields of France. One man hath been for ten long wretched years 115 120 Revenge thy sufferings and thy shame! By the bones which bleach on Jaffa's beach; By the blood which on Domingo's shore By the flesh which gorged the wolves of Or stiffen'd on the snowy plain By the bodies which lie all open to the sky, By the widow's and the orphan's cry; By the childless parent's misery; By the lives which he hath shed; By the ruin he hath spread; 125 By the prayers which rise for curses on his head; 130 Redeem, O France! thine ancient fame, Revenge thy sufferings and thy shame, Open thine eyes! too long hast thou been blind; Take vengeance for thyself, and for mankind! By those horrors which the night Witness'd, when the torches' light To the assembled murderers show'd Where the blood of Condé flow'd; By thy murder'd Pichegru's fame; The cause of all this blood and all these 135 By murder'd Wright, an English name; tears; One man in this most awful point of time Draws on thy danger, as he caused thy crime. Wait not too long the event, For now whole Europe comes against thee bent, His wiles and their own strength the nations know: Wise from past wrongs, on future peace intent, The people and the princes, with one mind, 105 From all parts move against the general foe: |