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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396146" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode (From The French)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.<br>We do not curse thee, Waterloo!<br>Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;<br>There 'twas shed, but is not sunk<br>Rising from each gory trunk,<br>Like the water-spout from ocean,<br>With a strong and growing motion<br>It soars, and mingles in the air,<br>With that of lost Labedoyère--<br>With that of him whose honour'd grave<br>Contains the 'bravest of the brave. <br>A crimson cloud it spreads and glows,<br>But shall return to whence it rose;<br>When 'tis full 'twill burst asunder<br>Never yet was heard such thunder<br>As then shall shake the world with wonder<br>Never yet was seen such lightning<br>As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning!<br>Like the Wormwood Star foretold<br>By the sainted Seer of old,<br>Show'ring down a fiery flood,<br>Turning rivers into blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>The Chief has fallen, but not by you,<br>Vanquishers of Waterloo!<br>When the soldier citizen<br>Sway'd not o'er his fellow-men--<br>Save in deeds that led them on<br>Where Glory smiled on Freedom's son<br>Who, of all the despots banded,<br>With that youthful chief competed?<br>Who could boast o'er France defeated,<br>Till lone Tyranny commanded?<br>Till, goaded by ambition's sting,<br>The Hero sunk into the King?<br>Then he fell:-- so perish all,<br>Who would men by man enthral! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>And thou, too, of the snow-white plume! <br>Whose realm refused thee ev'n a tomb;<br>Better hadst thou still been leading<br>France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding,<br>Than sold thyself to death and shame<br>For a meanly royal name;<br>Such as he of Naples wears,<br>Who thy blood-bought title bears.<br>Little didst thou deem, when dashing<br>On thy war-horse through the ranks,<br>Like a stream which burst its banks,<br>While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,<br>Shone and shiver'd fast around thee--<br>Of the fate at last which found thee:<br>Was that haughty plume laid low<br>By a slave's dishonest blow?<br>Once - as the moon sways o'er the tide;<br>It roll'd in air, the warrior's guide;<br>Through the smoke-created night<br>Of the black and sulphurous fight,<br>The soldier raised his seeking eye<br>To catch that crest's ascendancy,<br>And, as it onward rolling rose<br>So moved his heart upon our foes.<br>There, where death's brief pang was quickest,<br>And the battle's wreck lay thickest,<br>Strew 'd beneath the advancing banner<br>Of the eagles burning crest--<br>(There thunder-clouds to fan her,<br>Who could then her wing arrest--<br>Victory beaming from her breast?) <br>While the broken line enlarging<br>Fell, or fled along the plain; <br>There be sure was Murat charging!<br>There he ne'er shall charge again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<br>O'er glories gone the invaders march,<br>Weeps Triumph o'er each levell'd arch-<br>But let Freedom rejoice,<br>With her heart in her voice<br>But, her hand on her sword,<br>Doubly shall she be adored<br>France hath twice too well been taught<br>The 'moral lesson' dearly bought<br>Her safety sits not on a throne,<br>With Capet or Napoleon! <br>But in equal rights and laws,<br>Hearts and hands in one great cause-<br>Freedom, such as God hath given<br>Unto all beneath his heaven,<br>With their breath, and from their birth,<br>Though guilt would sweep it from the earth;<br>With a fierce and lavish hand<br>Scattering nations' wealth like sand;<br>Pouring nations' blood like water,<br>In imperial seas of slaughter!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<br>But the heart and the mind,<br>And the voice of mankind,<br>Shall arise in communion--<br>And who shall resist that proud union?<br>The time is past when swords subdued<br>Man may die - the soul's renew'd:<br>Even in this low world of care<br>Freedom ne'er shall want an heir;<br>Millions breathe but to inherit<br>Her for ever bounding spirit-- <br>When once more her hosts assemble,<br>Tyrants shall believe and tremble<br>Smile they at this idle threat?<br>Crimson tears will follow yet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396146" data-title="Ode (From The French) de Byron" data-description="I.
We do not curse thee, Waterloo!
Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;
There 'twas shed, but is not sunk
Rising from each gory trunk,
Like the water-spout from ocean,
With a strong and growing motion
It soars, and mingles in the air,
With ..."></div>
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