This simile enough for Ajax, Juan
Perhaps may find it better than a new one);
XXX
Then, like an ass, he went upon his way,
And, what was stranger, never looked behind;
But seeing, flashing forward, like the day
Over the hills, a fire enough to blind
Those who dislike to look upon a fray,
He stumbled on, to try if he could find
A path, to add his own slight arm and forces
To corps, the greater part of which were corses.
XXXI
Perceiving then no more the commandant
Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which had
Quite disappeared—the gods know how! (I can’t
Account for everything which may look bad
In history; but we at least may grant
It was not marvellous that a mere lad,
In search of Glory, should look on before,
Nor care a pinch of snuff about his corps:)—664
XXXII
Perceiving nor commander nor commanded,
And left at large, like a young heir, to make
His way to—where he knew not—single handed;
As travellers follow over bog and brake
An “ignis fatuus;” or as sailors stranded
Unto the nearest hut themselves betake;
So Juan, following Honour and his nose,
Rushed where the thickest fire announced most foes.665
XXXIII
He knew not where he was, nor greatly cared,
For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins
Filled as with lightning—for his spirit shared
The hour, as is the case with lively brains;
And where the hottest fire was seen and heard,
And the loud cannon pealed his hoarsest strains,
He rushed, while earth and air were sadly shaken
By thy humane discovery, Friar Bacon!666667
XXXIV
And as he rushed along, it came to pass he
Fell in with what was late the second column,
Under the orders of the General Lascy,
But now reduced, as is a bulky volume
Into an elegant extract (much less massy)
Of heroism, and took his place with solemn
Air ’midst the rest, who kept their valiant faces
And levelled weapons still against the Glacis.668
XXXV
Just at this crisis up came Johnson too,
Who had “retreated,” as the phrase is when
Men run away much rather than go through
Destruction’s jaws into the Devil’s den;
But Johnson was a clever fellow, who
Knew when and how “to cut and come again,”
And never ran away, except when running
Was nothing but a valorous kind of cunning.
XXXVI
And so, when all his corps were dead or dying,
Except Don Juan, a mere novice, whose
More virgin valour never dreamt of flying,
From ignorance of danger, which indues
Its votaries, like Innocence relying
On its own strength, with careless nerves and thews—
Johnson retired a little, just to rally
Those who catch cold in “shadows of Death’s valley.”
XXXVII
And there, a little sheltered from the shot,
Which rained from bastion, battery, parapet,
Rampart, wall, casement, house—for there was not
In this extensive city, sore beset
By Christian soldiery, a single spot
Which did not combat like the Devil, as yet—
He found a number of Chasseurs, all scattered
By the resistance of the chase they battered.
XXXVIII
And these he called on; and, what ’s strange, they came
Unto his call, unlike “the spirits from
The vasty deep,” to whom you may exclaim,
Says Hotspur, long ere they will leave their home:—669
Their reasons were uncertainty, or shame
At shrinking from a bullet or a bomb,
And that odd impulse, which in wars or creeds670
Makes men, like cattle, follow him who leads.
XXXIX
By Jove! he was a noble fellow, Johnson,
And though his name, than Ajax or Achilles,
Sounds less harmonious, underneath the sun soon
We shall not see his likeness: he could kill his
Man quite as quietly as blows the Monsoon
Her steady breath (which some months the same still is):
Seldom he varied feature, hue, or muscle,
And could be very busy without bustle;
XL
And therefore, when he ran away, he did so
Upon reflection, knowing that behind
He would find others who would fain be rid so
Of idle apprehensions, which like wind
Trouble heroic stomachs. Though their lids so
Oft are soon closed, all heroes are not blind,
But when they light upon immediate death,
Retire a little, merely to take breath.
XLI
But Johnson only ran off, to return
With many other warriors, as we said,
Unto that rather somewhat misty bourne,
Which Hamlet tells us is a pass of dread.671
To Jack, howe’er, this gave but slight concern:
His soul (like galvanism upon the dead)
Acted upon the living as on wire,
And led them back into the heaviest fire.
XLII
Egad! they found the second time what they
The first time thought quite terrible enough
To fly from, malgré all which people say
Of Glory, and all that immortal stuff
Which fills a regiment (besides their pay,
That daily shilling which makes warriors tough)—
They found on their return the self-same welcome,
Which made some think, and others know, a hell come.
XLIII
They fell as thick as harvests beneath hail,
Grass before scythes, or corn below the sickle,
Proving that trite old truth, that Life’s as frail
As any other boon for which men stickle.
The Turkish batteries thrashed them like a flail,
Or a good boxer, into a sad pickle
Putting the very bravest, who were knocked
Upon the head before their guns were cocked.
XLIV
The Turks behind the traverses and flanks
Of the next bastion, fired away like devils,
And swept, as gales sweep foam away, whole ranks:
However, Heaven knows how, the Fate who levels
Towns—nations—worlds, in her revolving pranks,
So ordered it, amidst these sulphury revels,
That Johnson, and some few who had not scampered,
Reached the interior “talus”672 of the rampart.673
XLV
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 showered forth above, as well ’s below,
So that you scarce could say who best had chosen,
The gentlemen that were
