X. The Prince de Ligne was wounded in the knee; Count Chapeau-Bras,[ia]--too, had a ball between His cap and head,[418] which proves the head to be Aristocratic as was ever seen, Because it then received no injury More than the cap; in fact, the ball could mean No harm unto a right legitimate head; "Ashes to ashes"--why not lead to lead? XI. Also the General Markow, Brigadier, Insisting on removal of _the Prince_ Amidst some groaning thousands dying near,-- All common fellows, who might writhe and wince, And shriek for water into a deaf ear,-- The General Markow, who could thus evince His sympathy for rank, by the same token, To teach him greater, had his own leg broken.[419] XII. Three hundred cannon threw up their emetic, And thirty thousand muskets flung their pills Like hail, to make a bloody Diuretic.[420] Mortality! thou hast thy monthly bills: Thy plagues--thy famines--thy physicians--yet tick, Like the death-watch, within our ears the ills Past, present, and to come;--but all may yield To the true portrait of one battle-field; XIII. There the still varying pangs, which multiply Until their very number makes men hard By the infinities of agony, Which meet the gaze, whate'er it may regard-- The groan, the roll in dust, the all-_white_ eye Turned back within its socket,--these reward Your rank and file by thousands, while the rest May win perhaps a riband at the breast! XIV. Yet I love Glory;--Glory's a great thing:-- Think what it is to be in your old age Maintained at the expense of your good King: A moderate pension shakes full many a sage, And Heroes are but made for bards to sing, Which is still better--thus, in verse, to wage Your wars eternally, besides enjoying Half-pay for life, make Mankind worth destroying. XV. The troops, already disembarked, pushed on To take a battery on the right: the others, Who landed lower down, their landing done, Had set to work as briskly as their brothers: Being grenadiers, they mounted one by one, Cheerful as children climb the breasts of mothers, O'er the intrenchment and the palisade,[421] Quite orderly, as if upon parade. XVI. And this was admirable: for so hot The fire was, that were red Vesuvius loaded, Besides its lava, with all sorts of shot And shells or hells, it could not more have goaded. Of officers a third fell on the spot, A thing which Victory by no means boded To gentlemen engaged in the assault: Hounds, when the huntsman tumbles, are at fault. XVII.