The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 67

XXII.

Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young, and gay; But I'm too great a patriot to record Their Gallic names upon a glorious day; I'd rather tell ten lies than say a word Of truth;--such truths are treason; they betray Their country; and as traitors are abhorred, Who name the French in English, save to show How Peace should make John Bull the Frenchman's foe.

XXIII.

The Russians, having built two batteries on An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view; The first was to bombard it, and knock down The public buildings and the private too, No matter what poor souls might be undone:[hl]

The city's shape suggested this, 't is true, Formed like an amphitheatre--each dwelling Presented a fine mark to throw a sh.e.l.l in.[383]

XXIV.

The second object was to profit by The moment of the general consternation, To attack the Turk's flotilla, which lay nigh Extremely tranquil, anch.o.r.ed at its station: But a third motive was as probably To frighten them into capitulation;[384]

A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors, Unless they are game as bull-dogs and fox-terriers.[hm]

XXV.

A habit rather blameable, which is That of despising those we combat with, Common in many cases, was in this The cause[385] of killing Tchitchitzkoff and Smith-- One of the valorous "Smiths" whom we shall miss Out of those nineteen who late rhymed to "pith;"

But 't is a name so spread o'er "Sir" and "Madam,"

That one would think the _first_ who bore it _"Adam."_

XXVI.

The Russian batteries were incomplete, Because they were constructed in a hurry;[386]

Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet, And throws a cloud o'er Longman and John Murray, When the sale of new books is not so fleet As they who print them think is necessary, May likewise put off for a time what story Sometimes calls "Murder," and at others "Glory."

XXVII.

Whether it was their engineer's stupidity, Their haste or waste, I neither know nor care, Or some contractor's personal cupidity, Saving his soul by cheating in the ware Of homicide, but there was no solidity In the new batteries erected there; They either missed, or they were never missed, And added greatly to the missing list.

XXVIII.

A sad miscalculation about distance Made all their naval matters incorrect; Three fireships lost their amiable existence Before they reached a spot to take effect; The match was lit too soon, and no a.s.sistance Could remedy this lubberly defect; They blew up in the middle of the river, While, though 't was dawn, the Turks slept fast as ever.[387]

XXIX.

At seven they rose, however, and surveyed The Russ flotilla getting under way; 'T was nine, when still advancing undismayed, Within a cable's length their vessels lay Off Ismail, and commenced a cannonade, Which was returned with interest, I may say, And by a fire of musketry and grape, And sh.e.l.ls and shot of every size and shape.[388]

x.x.x.

For six hours bore they without intermission The Turkish fire, and, aided by their own Land batteries, worked their guns with great precision; At length they found mere cannonade alone By no means would produce the town's submission, And made a signal to retreat at one.

One bark blew up, a second near the works Running aground, was taken by the Turks.[389]

x.x.xI.

The Moslem, too, had lost both ships and men; But when they saw the enemy retire, Their Delhis[390] manned some boats, and sailed again, And galled the Russians with a heavy fire, And tried to make a landing on the main; But here the effect fell short of their desire: Count Damas drove them back into the water Pell-mell, and with a whole gazette of slaughter.[391]

x.x.xII.

"If" (says the historian here) "I could report All that the Russians did upon this day, I think that several volumes would fall short, And I should still have many things to say;"[392]

And so he says no more--but pays his court To some distinguished strangers in that fray; The Prince de Ligne, and Langeron, and Damas, Names great as any that the roll of Fame has.[393]

x.x.xIII.

This being the case, may show us what Fame _is_: For out of these three "_preux Chevaliers_," how Many of common readers give a guess That such existed? (and they may live now For aught we know.) Renown's all hit or miss; There's fortune even in Fame, we must allow.

'T is true, the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne[394]

Have half withdrawn from _him_ Oblivion's screen.

x.x.xIV.

But here are men who fought in gallant actions As gallantly as ever heroes fought, But buried in the heap of such transactions Their names are rarely found, nor often sought.

Thus even good fame may suffer sad contractions, And is extinguished sooner than she ought: Of all our modern battles, I will bet You can't repeat nine names from each Gazette.

x.x.xV.

In short, this last attack, though rich in glory, Showed that _somewhere, somehow_, there was a fault, And Admiral Ribas[395] (known in Russian story) Most strongly recommended an a.s.sault; In which he was opposed by young and h.o.a.ry, Which made a long debate; but I must halt, For if I wrote down every warrior's speech, I doubt few readers e'er would mount the breach.

x.x.xVI.

There was a man, if that he was a man, Not that his manhood could be called in question, For had he not been Hercules, his span Had been as short in youth as indigestion Made his last illness, when, all worn and wan, He died beneath a tree, as much unblest on The soil of the green province he had wasted, As e'er was locust on the land it blasted.

x.x.xVII.

This was Potemkin[396]--a great thing in days When homicide and harlotry made great; If stars and t.i.tles could entail long praise, His glory might half equal his estate.

This fellow, being six foot high, could raise A kind of phantasy proportionate In the then Sovereign of the Russian people, Who measured men as you would do a steeple.

x.x.xVIII.

While things were in abeyance, Ribas sent A courier to the Prince, and he succeeded In ordering matters after his own bent; I cannot tell the way in which he pleaded, But shortly he had cause to be content.

In the mean time, the batteries proceeded, And fourscore cannon on the Danube's border Were briskly fired and answered in due order.[397]

x.x.xIX.

But on the thirteenth, when already part Of the troops were embarked, the siege to raise, A courier on the spur inspired new heart Into all panters for newspaper praise,[hn]

As well as dilettanti in War's art, By his despatches (couched in pithy phrase) Announcing the appointment of that lover of Battles to the command, Field-Marshal Souvaroff.[398]

XL.

The letter of the Prince to the same Marshal Was worthy of a Spartan, had the cause Been one to which a good heart could be partial-- Defence of freedom, country, or of laws; But as it was mere l.u.s.t of Power to o'er-arch all With its proud brow, it merits slight applause, Save for its style, which said, all in a trice, "You will take Ismail at whatever price."[399]

XLI.

"Let there be Light! said G.o.d, and there was Light!"

"Let there be Blood!" says man, and there's a sea!

The fiat of this spoiled child of the Night (For Day ne'er saw his merits) could decree More evil in an hour, than thirty bright Summers could renovate, though they should be Lovely as those which ripened Eden's fruit; For War cuts up not only branch, but root.

XLII.

Our friends, the Turks, who with loud "Allahs" now Began to signalise the Russ retreat,[400]

Were d.a.m.nably mistaken; few are slow In thinking that their enemy is beat,[401]