First one or two, then five, six, and a dozen, Came mounting quickly up, for it was now All neck or nothing, as, like pitch or rosin, Flame was shower’d forth above, as well ’s below, So that you scarce could say who best had chosen, The gentlemen that were the first to show Their martial faces on the parapet, Or those who thought it brave to wait as yet. But those who scaled, found out that their advance Was favour’d by an accident or blunder: The Greek or Turkish Cohorn’s ignorance Had palisado’d in a way you’d wonder To see in forts of Netherlands or France (Though these to our Gibraltar must knock under)— Right in the middle of the parapet Just named, these palisades were primly set: So that on either side some nine or ten Paces were left, whereon you could contrive To march; a great convenience to our men, At least to all those who were left alive, Who thus could form a line and fight again; And that which farther aided them to strive Was, that they could kick down the palisades, Which scarcely rose much higher than grass blades. Among the first,—I will not say the first, For such precedence upon such occasions Will oftentimes make deadly quarrels burst Out between friends as well as allied nations: The Briton must be bold who really durst Put to such trial John Bull’s partial patience, As say that Wellington at Waterloo Was beaten—though the Prussians say so too;— And that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, And God knows who besides in ‘au’ and ‘ow,’ Had not come up in time to cast an awe Into the hearts of those who fought till now As tigers combat with an empty craw, The Duke of Wellington had ceased to show His orders, also to receive his pensions, Which are the heaviest that our history mentions. But never mind;—‘God save the king!’ and kings! For if he don’t, I doubt if men will longer— I think I hear a little bird, who sings The people by and by will be the stronger: The veriest jade will wince whose harness wrings So much into the raw as quite to wrong her Beyond the rules of posting,—and the mob At last fall sick of imitating Job. At first it grumbles, then it swears, and then, Like David, flings smooth pebbles ’gainst a giant; At last it takes to weapons such as men Snatch when despair makes human hearts less pliant. Then comes ‘the tug of war;’—’twill come again, I rather doubt; and I would fain say ‘fie on ’t,’ If I had not perceived that revolution Alone can save the earth from hell’s pollution. But to continue:—I say not the first, But of the first, our little friend Don Juan Walk’d o’er the walls of Ismail, as if nursed Amidst such scenes—though this was quite a new one To him, and I should hope to most. The thirst Of glory, which so pierces through and through one, Pervaded him—although a generous creature, As warm in heart as feminine in feature.