According to the caricaturist, during the retreat Napoleon was nearly caught by Cossacks, and only saved by jumping out of window; but as the same story is told of him during his retreat from Leipsic, they may as well be combined, and the reader will thus be enabled to apply it to whichever event he prefers:-- He chang’d his dress--his horse bestrode, And in full speed to Wilna rode; As soon as he began to fly, The Russians rais’d a _hue and cry_; A great reward, as it is said, Was offer’d for our hero’s head, That some to take him might be bribed, Thus Boney’s person was described-- His figure rather short and thin-- Black hair--black beard--projecting chin-- Nose aquiline, with marks of snuff, Arch’d eyebrows--manners very rough-- Stern countenance, dress’d rather mean, And in a grey surtout oft seen. But, notwithstanding his dismay, Poor Bonaparte got safe away. When he to Wilna’s borders came, He very wisely changed his name; And in a sledge--’twas so contriv’d, At Paris in the night arriv’d. ‘Nap nearly nab’d or a retreating jump just in time. _Never did_ trusty squire with knight, Or knight with squire, e’er jump more right--Vide Boney’s Russian Campaign,’ was published in June 1813. It shows the Cossacks arriving, and Napoleon jumping out of window, to the great detriment of the flower-pots, pigs, and poultry. A general inside the house calls out, ‘Vite, Courez, mon Empereur, ce Diable de Cossack dey spoil our dinner!!!’ [Illustration: BONAPARTE’S ESCAPE FROM COSSACKS.] He by the Cossacks was pursued, But luckily a dwelling view’d-- And, while his legions bravely fought, Protection in this house he sought; The guards, who had the place surrounded, Were cut to pieces, kill’d and wounded. Nap pricked his ears up at the rout, He op’d the window and jump’d out-- Jump’d out! how great, then, was his dread, Fell he upon his feet--or head? No--not his feet--because he _sat_-- He could not fall like a Tom cat-- Nor would he break his pretty nose, And so--another part he chose-- ’Tis true--his bum was very sore, His breeches, here and there, he tore; But such a trifle little matters, A Man can run altho’ in tatters-- So oft was Boney sore afraid That he a pris’ner might be made; But, as the man would fain his cracks hide, He tuck’d his skirts about his backside.