Had gone, poor boy! in soldiership to shine,
And bore an Austrian banner on the Rhine.
'Twas when, alas! our empire's evil star
Shed all the plagues, without the pride of war;
When patriots bled, and bitterer anguish crossed
Our brave, to die in battles foully lost.
The youth wrote home the rout of many a day;
Yet still he said, and still with truth could say,
One corps had ever made a valiant stand,—
The corps in which he served,-Theodric's band.
His fame, forgotten chief, is now gone by,
Eclipsed by brighter orbs in glory's sky;
Yet once it shone, and veterans, when they show
Our fields of battle twenty years ago,
Will tell you feats his small brigade performed,
In charges nobly faced and trenches stormed.
Time was, when songs were chanted to his fame,
And soldiers loved the march that bore his name;
The zeal of martial hearts was at his call,
And that Helvetian, Udolph's, most of all.
'Twas touching, when the storm of war blew wild,
To see a blooming boy,-almost a child,-
Spur fearless at his leader's words and signs,
Brave death in reconnoitring hostile lines,
And speed each task, and tell each message clear,
In scenes where war-trained men were stunned with fear.
Theodric praised him, and they wept for joy In yonder house,-when letters from the boy Thanked Heav'n for life, and more, to use his phrase, Than twenty lives-his own commander's praise. Then followed glowing pages, blazoning forth The fancied image of his leader's worth, With such hyperboles of youthful style As made his parents dry their tears and smile:
But differently far his words impressed
A wond'ring sister's well-believing breast;-
She caught th' illusion, blest Theodric's name,
And wildly magnified his worth and fame;
Rejoicing life's reality contained
One, heretofore, her fancy had but feigned,
Whose love could make her proud; and time and chance
To passion raised that day-dream of Romance.
Once, when with hasty charge of horse and man
Our arriere guard had checked the Gallic van,
Theodric, visiting the outposts, found
His Udolph wounded, weltering on the ground :-
Sore crushed,-half-swooning, half-upraised he lay,
And bent his brow, fair boy! and grasped the clay.
His fate moved e'en the common soldier's ruth-
Theodric succoured him; nor left the youth
To vulgar hands, but brought him to his tent,
And lent what aid a brother would have lent.]
Meanwhile, to save his kindred half the smart The war-gazette's dread blood-roll might impart, He wrote th' event to them; and soon could tell Of pains assuaged and symptoms auguring well; And last of all, prognosticating cure,
Enclosed the leech's vouching signature.
Their answers, on wnose pages you might note That tears had fallen, whilst trembling fingers wrote Gave boundless thanks for benefits conferred, Of which the boy, in secret, sent them word, Whose memory Time, they said, would never blot; But which the giver had himself forgot.
In time the stripling, vigorous and healed, Resumed his barb and banner in the field,
And bore himself right soldier-like, till now
The third campaign had manlier bronzed his brow;
When peace, though but a scanty pause for breath,-
A curtain-drop between the acts of death,—
A check in frantic war's unfinished game,
Yet dearly bought, and direly welcome, came.
The camp broke up, and Udolph left his chief
As with a son's or younger brother's grief:
But journeying home, how rapt his spirits rose!
How light his footsteps crushed St. Gothard's snows!
How dear seemed ev'n the waste and wild Shreckhorn,
Though wrapt in clouds, and frowning as in scorn
Upon a downward world of pastoral charms;
Where, by the very smell of dairy-farms,
And fragrance from the mountain-herbage blown,
Blindfold his native hills he could have known!
His coming down yon lake,-his boat in view
Of windows where love's fluttering kerchief flew,-
The arms spread out for him—the tears that burst,—
('Twas Julia's, 'twas his sister's met him first!)
Their pride to see war's medal at his breast,
And all their rapture's greeting, may be guessed.
Ere long, his bosom triumphed to unfold A gift he meant their gayest room to hold,The picture of a friend in warlike dress; And who it was he first bade Julia guess.
Yes," she replied, "'twas he methought in sleep, When you were wounded, told me not to weep." The painting long in that sweet mansion drew Regards its living semblance little knew.
Meanwhile Theodric, who had years before Learnt England's tongue, and loved her classic lore, A glad enthusiast now explored the land,
Where Nature, Freedom, Art, smile hand in hand:
Her women fair; her men robust for toil;
Her vigorous souls, high-cultured as her soil;
Her towns, where civic independence flings
The gauntlet down to senates, courts, and kings;
Her works of art, resembling magic's powers;
Her mighty fleets, and learning's beauteous bowers,—
These he had visited, with wonder's smile,
And scarce endured to quit so fair an isle.
But how our fates from unmomentous things
May rise, like rivers out of little springs !
A trivial chance postponed his parting day,
And public tidings caused, in that delay,
An English jubilee. 'Twas a glorious sight;
At eve stupendous London, clad in light,
Poured out triumphant multitudes to gaze;
Youth, age, wealth, penury, smiling in the blaze :
Th' illumined atmosphere was warm and bland,
And Beauty's groups, the fairest of the land,
Conspicuous, as in some wide festive room,
open chariots passed with pearl and plume.
Amidst them he remarked a lovelier mien
Than e'er his thoughts had shaped, or eyes had seen:
The throng detained her till he reined his steed,
And, ere the beauty passed, had time to read
The motto and the arms her carriage bore.
Led by that clue, he left not England's shore
Till he had known her: and to know her well
Prolonged, exalted, bound enchantment's spell;
For with affections warm, intense, refined,
She mixed such calm and holy strength of mind,
That, like Heav'n's image in the smiling brook,
Celestial peace was pictured in her look.
Her's was the brow, in trials unperplexed,
That cheered the sad and tranquillized the vexed:
She studied not the meanest to eclipse,
the wisest listened to her lips;
She sang not, knew not Music's magic skill,
But yet her voice had tones that swayed the will.
He sought-he won her-and resolved to make
His future home in England for her sake.
Yet, ere they wedded, matters of concern
To Cæsar's Court commanded his return,
A season's space,-and on his Alpine way,
He reached those bowers, that rang with joy that day:
The boy was half beside himself,—the sire,
All frankness, honour, and Helvetian fire,
Of speedy parting would not hear him speak;
And tears bedewed and brightened Julia's cheek.
Thus, loth to wound their hospitable pride,
A month he promised with them to abide;
As blithe he trode the mountain-sward as they,
And felt his joy make ev'n the young more gay.
How jocund was their breakfast parlour fanned
By yon blue water's breath,-their walks how bland!
Fair Julia seemed her brother's softened sprite-
A gem reflecting Nature's purest light,—
And with her graceful wit there was inwrought
A wildly sweet unworldiness of thought,
That almost childlike to his kindness drew,
And twin with Udolph in his friendship grew.
But did his thoughts to love one moment range?-
No! he who had loved Constance could not change!
Besides, till grief betrayed her undesigned,
The unlikely thought could scarcely reach his mind, That eyes so young on years like his should beam Unwooed devotion back for pure esteem.
True she sang to his very soul and brought Those trains before him of luxuriant thought,
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