Spouter's companion/Hohenlinden

by Thomas Campbell

For other versions of this work, see Hohenlinden.

HOHENLINDEN.

On Linden when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay tho untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
⁠Of Iser rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding firos of death to light
⁠The darkness of her scenery!

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

Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven,
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 sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens—On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave;
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave,
⁠And chargo 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.