Hohenlinden
Thomas Campbell
1777 to 1844
Track 1
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Each horseman drew his battle blade,
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
But Linden saw another sight,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
But redder yet that light shall glow,
And charge with all thy chivalry!
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n,
'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
On Linden, when the sun was low,
And every turf beneath their feet,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow;
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
To join the dreadful revelry.
And dark as winter was the flow
Commanding fires of death to light
The snow shall be their winding sheet,
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n,
Few, few, shall part where many meet!
Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
And furious every charger neigh'd,
On Linden's hills of stained snow,
Far flash'd the red artillery.
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!
The darkness of her scenery.
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
When the drum beat, at dead of night,