By torch and trumpet fast array’d,
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
And furious every charger neigh’d,
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riv’n,
Then rush’d the steed to battle driv’n,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash’d the red artillery.

But redder yet that light shall glow,
On Linden’s hills of stained snow,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

’Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout in their sulph’rous canopy.

The combat deepens.  On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave! 
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few, shall part where many meet! 
The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet,
Shall be a soldier’s sepulchre.

1809 Edition.

* * * * *

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

21. Say not the Struggle Nought Availeth.

Say not, the struggle nought availeth,
  The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
  And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
  It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,
  And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
  Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
  Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,
  When daylight comes, comes in the light,
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
  But westward, look, the land is bright.

1869 Edition.

* * * * *

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

22. Youth and Age.

Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—­
Both were mine!  Life went a maying
      With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
                    When I was young!

When I was young?—­Ah, woful when! 
Ah! for the change ’twixt Now and Then! 
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands,
How lightly then it flashed along:—­
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide! 
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When Youth and I liv’d in’t together. 
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O! the joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
                    Ere I was old.