Hohenlinden

Thomas Campbell

Thomas Campbell portrait

1777 to 1844

Poem Image
Track 1

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Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
On Linden, when the sun was low,
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow;
And furious every charger neigh'd,
Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
Few, few, shall part where many meet!
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
And charge with all thy chivalry!
Far flash'd the red artillery.
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n,
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n,
The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
And every turf beneath their feet,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
And dark as winter was the flow
The snow shall be their winding sheet,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Commanding fires of death to light
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
But redder yet that light shall glow,
To join the dreadful revelry.
By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
On Linden's hills of stained snow,
The darkness of her scenery.
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!
But Linden saw another sight,

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Poet portrait