POETRY.
MARSHAL VORWARTS.
"Blucher's loyalty saved the cause of Europe."—Major-Oeneral Sir J. F. Maunior, K.C.B.
HERE'S to him who, bruised and ill, Wrote from Wavre, "Come I will!" Gneisenau said yea and nay, He would go and he would stay;
Vorwarts scarce could. sit his steed, Vorwarts marched in England's need; He was two and seventy then,— Here's to him and all his men !
Billow's corps is fresh for fight ; Billow leads, but rear and right, Corps of Pirch and corps of Ziethen, Battered, famished,..but unbeaten, Up the height and down the hollow, On from Wavre follow, follow ; Thunder, growling far away, Tells where England stands at bay.
Westward through the drenched lanes faring, Grimly went they, sweating, swearing, Deeper still in mire and muck, Till the batteries sank and stuck, Gun-teams floundering to the knees, Gun-wheels to the axle-trees, And the men sat down and sobbed, While the thunder swelled and throbbed.
Blood-red spur, and eyes ablaze, Bliicher rode the trampled ways,— " Hundert Teufel! what is here P" But they answered, "Father dear, Can thy children thrust and flog Through this barbarous, Belgian bog P Half the guns to hell are gone ; Father dear, we can't get on."
"Can't get on P But yonder,—hark I Hear ye not the bulldog's bark P Shall the Englanders allege That your Father broke his pledge P Shame it were, if that should be! Children, children, follow me I am sworn to Wellington,— Sapperment! We must get on."
Thus he spa.ke; and panting, steaming, Hugely heaving and blaspheming, On his batteries lurched and rumbled, On his columns reeled and stumbled ; But from Wavre Thielmann wrote, "I have Grouchy at my throat. Backward here the game's begun, And the odds are two to one."
"Two to one," quoth Vorwarts. DonnerWetter ! it will go, If, bei Gott, till close of day, Thielmann hold them all in play ; But we cannot help him there, Not one sabre can we spare; What though Thielmann stand or fall, Yon's the great game, forward all 1" Came a. redcoat, racing through,— " What, in God's name, what are you P" "Black Hussars that ride before , Graf von Billow's army-corps ; Back to Wavre, miles on miles, You shall find his sweltering files,— Hark ! they roll the Prussian drums Courage! Father Bliicher comes!"
Forward all ! And Billow drove Right upon Pla.ncenoit, and strove Hour by hour of blood and flame, Hour by hour, till Ziethen came, Storming in upon Papelotte, Storming in with steel and shot ; Then, as flared the sinking sun, England struck,—and it was done.
Such was Vorwiirts, such a fighter, Such a lunging, plunging smiler, Always staunch and always straight, Strong as death foi love or hate, Always first in foulest weather, Neck or nothing, hell for leather, Through or over, sink or swim, Such was Vorwarts—here's to him !
FRANK TAYLOR.
"Sol
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