Incident Of The French Camp

I.     You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:     A mile or so away,     On a little mound, Napolon     Stood on our storming-day;     With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,     Legs wide, arms locked behind,     As if to balance the prone brow     Oppressive with its mind. II.     Just as perhaps he mused My plans     That soar, to earth may fall,     Let once my army-leader Lannes     Waver at yonder wall,     Out twixt the battery-smokes there flew     A rider, bound on bound     Full-galloping; nor bridle drew     Until he reached the mound. III.     Then off there flung in smiling joy,     And held himself erect     By just his horses mane, a boy:     You hardly could suspect     (So tight he kept his lips compressed,     Scarce any blood came through)     You looked twice ere you saw his breast     Was all but shot in two. IV.     Well, cried he, Emperor, by Gods grace     Weve got you Ratisbon!     The Marshals in the market-place,     And youll be there anon     To see your flag-bird flap his vans     Where I, to hearts desire,     Perched him! The chiefs eye flashed; his plans     Soared up again like fire. V.     The chiefs eye flashed; but presently     Softened itself, as sheathes     A film the mother-eagles eye     When her bruised eaglet breathes;     Youre wounded! Nay, the soldiers pride     Touched to the quick, he said:     Im killed, Sire! And his chief beside     Smiling the boy fell dead.