Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1845-1854, 1852-05-17


is one wild baille,and | see noIhing but III
smoke OF cannon, The tossing of plumes
and the soaring Of ihe French eagle owe
the charging columns; and | hear naugh
but the roll of the drum, the sound Of mar
ual music. the explosion of artillery, an,
the blast of the bugle sounding the charge
There stands Wellington, weary and anx
ious. Wherever square has wavered, he
has thrown himselfin,o it, cheering on hi
men. But now he stands and surveys The
field OF blood, aud sees his posts driven in
his army exhausted, and exclnins, while
he wipes the sweat from his brow, "W ouie
TO God that Butcher or night might come. ,
| The noble Gordon stepped up 10 him beg
| ging him not to stand where he is exposed
to the shots Of the enemy, and while he is
speaking bullet pierces his own body and
he falls. Bonuparte surveys the field oi
slaughter with savage ferocity, and pcurs
fresh columns on The English lines, while
the cavalry charge with desperate valor on
The English infantry. For four long hours
has the battle ragged aad victory wavefed.
But look! a dark object, energes from yon-
der distant wood, and stretches out into the
field. And now there are banners, and
horsemen, and moving columns. The
Pfussians are coming, Bonaparte seesthem,
ard knowing that nothing can save him
but the destruction Of the English lines be>
fore they arrive, orders up his old Imperial
Guard that had been kept aloof from battle
all the day. He addresses them in q few
fiery words, telling them that al rests on
their yalor. They shout '.,he Emperor
foreyerl" till the sound is heard even lo,he
British lines.
With tho impetuous Ney at their head,
they move forward in perfect order and
beautiful array down the slope. The
storm of battle is hushed No drum, or.
trumpet or martial strain cheers them on.
No bugle sounds the charge. In dead 81.
lence, and with firm ond steady step they
come. The allied forces look with indis-
cribable awe and dread upon these baltal.
ions that had never yel been conquered--.
But the momentary pause is like the hush
ofsthe storm ere it gathers for a sfercer
sweep. The cannon opened at once, and
whole ranks of that gallant band fnll like
snow wreath from the mountain, yet they
faller not-oyer the mangled forms they
pass, and with steady resistIess force, come
face to- face with their foe. The field
seems lost--but no, tina. awful discharge
on their bosems from tha, rank ofmen that
seemed 10 rise from the ground, has turned
the day the inyincible guard stopped as if
stunned by q terrible blow. second dis>
charge, and they wheel and fly The
whole English line now advance TO the
assault. Look at that mangled column
how that discharge Of artillery has torn: its
head and carried away hall its number.
lis over! that magnificent army that
formed in such beautiful order in the morn
ing on the heights, is now rent and the fu
sitives darken the field. 'fis night--but
The Prussiuns, fresh on the field, pursue the
flying the long night. Oh! what scenes of
horror and dread are witnessed, where the
thunder Of distant cannon comes booming
on the midnight air! Death is drngging
his car over The multitude, and the very
heavens looked aghast at the merciless
Slaughter Headley.