Soldiers, farewell! And when your banners wave
Above my bones beside some nameless hill,
Stop not the thunder of your glorious tread,
To mark me sleeping with th' inglorious dead.
And farewell, Foes! Brave hearts and grand of soul;
We fought in fierceness, now in peace we part.
My luckless heart hath ever been the goal
Sought by your sabres, but in vain, O Heart!
Welcome to death amid the drum's far roll,
Great souls, where I no more will dare your dart.
'Tis best to die where war's bluff banners wave,
Swathed in your guerdon, "Bravest of the brave."
Farewell, the storm-voiced Steed! the hero Horse
That snuffs the battle's sulphury breath afar;
The proudest form, the best compacted force,
That hurls the earthquake on the field of war.
No more I'll ride, on his terrific course,
That meteor maddened through the lines ajar,
While the foe, blanching at the onset, reels
Before his breath and thunder of his heels.
Farewell, volcanic din, Olympian brattle,
The bursting bomb, the thousand-throated cheer
Tartarean roar, the volleyed rifle rattle,
The rocket's lightning line of fire and fear.
I sought my fate 'mid foes in brilliant battle,
Gorging with souls the hungry atmosphere;
I find my fate from one cold coward's command,
A dozen bullets, and a friendly hand.
Thus I, once Michael Ney, Marshal of France,
And soon a heap of dust, dishonored, sink;--
I, who have vanned the Empire's fierce advance
In triple continents of fame to drink,
And bore its backward but still levelled lance
From Borodino to the icy brink
Of Beresina; thence defiance hurled
To the linked thunders of th' embattled world.
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