handful follow him
Once more into the carnage. Hear his voice.

NEY [calling afar]

My friends, see how a Marshal of France can die!

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES

Alas, not here in battle, something hints,
But elsewhere!... Who's the sworded brother-chief
Swept past him in the tumult?

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

D'Erlon he.
Ney cries to him:

NEY

Be sure of this, my friend,
If we don't perish here at English hands,
Nothing is left us but the halter-noose
The Bourbons will provide!

SPIRIT IRONIC

A caustic wit,
And apt, to those who deal in adumbrations!

[The brave remnant of the Imperial Guard repulses for a time the
English cavalry under Vivian, in which MAJOR HOWARD and LIEUTENANT
GUNNING of the Tenth Hussars are shot. But the war-weary French
cannot cope with the pursuing infantry, helped by grape-shot from
the batteries.

NAPOLEON endeavours to rally them. It is his last effort as a
warrior; and the rally ends feebly.]

NAPOLEON

They are crushed! So it has ever been since Crecy!

[He is thrown violently off his horse, and bids his page bring
another, which he mounts, and is lost to sight.]

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

He loses his last chance of dying well!

[The three or four heroic battalions of the Old and Middle Guard
fall back step by step, halting to reform in square when they
get badly broken and shrunk. At last they are surrounded by the
English Guards and other foot, who keep firing on them and smiting
them to smaller and smaller numbers. GENERAL CAMBRONNE is inside
the square.]

COLONEL HUGH HALKETT [shouting]

Surrender! And preserve those heroes' lives!

CAMBRONNE [with exasperation]

Mer-r-rde!... You've to deal with desperates, man, today:
Life is a byword here!

[Hollow laughter, as from people in hell, comes approvingly from
the remains of the Old Guard. The English proceed with their
massacre, the devoted band thins and thins, and a ball strikes
CAMBRONNE, who falls, and is trampled over.]

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Observe that all wide sight and self-command
Desert these throngs now driven to demonry
By the Immanent Unrecking. Nought remains
But vindictiveness here amid the strong,
And there amid the weak an impotent r