The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1871-05-16
Rnstry.
The Baptism of Louis.
by A. 3. ABBOTT

by A. =. ABBOTT
Napoleon, at the time of engaging in war will
peral his baptism of FIRE.
Up with the breaking light of morn,
Two hosts to conflict ran,
When tinged.the rosy flush of dawn
The waters OF Sedan.
Beneath the scorching MONDAY sun
The shouts of battle rose,-
Around the vanqushed Emperor
The ranks of Prussia close,
And now the long, gray shadows cast
Before the setting sun,
Upon the Prussian army fall
Flushed with the triumph won;
Then, as the twilight slowly fell,
When came the shades Of night,
1t screened the slain and wounded men,
That fell, while ragged the fight
The Prussans saw the beacon-lights
Send forth ftful glare.
And then the bugle's martial note
Died on the midnight air.
But bark What sound the stiffness breaks
AS II to mock the slain?
The chilly air Of evening shrinks-
Tramp, tramp. II echoes plain
A hundred thousand vanquished men
Now march behind the foe,
And not drum sends forth note
For triumph as they go:
AT length the sound no more Is heard,
And still the wounded lay
AS when the spirit, prison. freed,
Has left Its native clay.
Close by, Frank is dying now,
Where he soldier fell,
And with the loved ones at his home
He longs once more to dwell;
But Thousands more around him lie,
The dying and the dead.
Ay, toiling peasants children leave
To starve for want of bread.
Look forth, and pierce the darkness now
Among the heaps of slain.
What woman dares to brave the scene
And cross this bloody plain7
She lifts her husbands mangled form
Up from the od-stained ground,
Where Prussian guns with deadly aim
Had moved battalions down.
ALAS! unhappy France" he said,
And murmured with sigh.
at is not for thy honor's sake,
That we are doomed to die;,,
But II is Tor thy monarch's Will,
Who in his wanton greed,
Cares not how many fall and die.
II his own plans succeed;
Or at his death young Louis,
Who shares the magic name,
Baptized with fire and carnage. can
Renew his uncle's fame.
But "-ah the veterans voice grows faint,
For breath he struggles now,
And presses close the soothing hand
That calms his fevered brow;
Then ere chill death assunder broke
The shattered thread oflife,
With one sad, farewell kiss, he pressed
The forehead of his wife
And then in silence closed his eyes
Beneath the shades of night.
No more shall martial music call.
Or nerve him for the fight.
In every cot the wounded pine,
The dead lie on the field
Where ere Won Moltke turned his course.
a brood of vultures wheeled.
More peasants from their daily tolls
In Germany and France,
Are mustered at the bugles call,
Then to the front advance;
There face to face with weapons bright
In solid ranks they came,
To bow n naughty rivals pride.
And win potent name.
The Prussian leaders mass their ranks.
And rush upon their foe,
Then to the cause of tickle France
They deal a fatal blow;
And HohenZollern lifts its head
Above Its naughty peers,
To send their fame through smoke and blood
Down to all coming years.
The flames of burning cities tell
Where rolls the fearful strife,
While Prussia with her needle-gun
Is fed on human life.
Once more the sons of France arise,
Her peasants weapons seize,
And lifting freedoms banner high,
Unfurled II to the breeze.
Alas in vain your efforts fall
In vain, ye gallant souls =
'Tis lost That helm of state is lost,
No fear OF God controls
More German conscripts throng the street
OfFrankfort-on-the Main,
Then flash their weapons 0 er the hills
OF Alsace and Lorraine.
on on to Paris rolls the tide,
Its thunders shake the ground
The aliens all their forces mass,
And then her walls surround.
The screaming shells burst DER her domes,
And light the midnight sky,
And then from fort and bastiOn strong
a thousand guns reply.
Forth go her troops TO meet the foe.
And strew the hills with slain,
Until purple flood flows down
To mingle with the Seine.
The troops that poured from Champ de Mars
While backward many hero fell
Beneath the sabre-stroke;
Still nearer pressed the Teuton ranks
AS hand to hand they fought
While many n marble dome and arch
Fell meath the ringing shot.
There Paris, queen of pleasure, sits,
While groans of woe are heard,
And yet yields not. tilI fails the heart.
Made sick by hope deferred;
Then, through her proud triumphal arch.
The Uhlans rode In line,
While s4sns STShs upon 5as b%SrnRg Rsge1n
And bows the pride Of naughty France -
From war they seek release
Then shines upon their mourning homes
The holy light of peace.
An instant: then, as black AZ night.
Another cloud is seen.
Confusion reigns throughout the land!
They cry THE GuillotIne."
France turns the sword against herself;
The rabble reign once more,
While mobs rush through the halls of stat,
And shout for Rochefort.
The seething scum profanely rage
Against the Throne on high
But bark The cannon's thunder tones
In death. and blood reply.
Unhappy land! Thy God disowned,
Why longing, hope for peace:
'Tis not with Reason, but with Him
To bid thy tumult cease.
France sought with fadeless wreaths OF fam
Through war, her brow to deck:
But now despoiled by fire and sword
She lies a bleeding wreck.