The battle-field!

I've willed it: it has risen.

VOICES.

Water!--Water Upon my gash! Ah! tell me what I've broken!

Ah! do not let me perish in this ditch!

THE DUKE.

Forests of arms are quivering in the plain; I tread upon a field of epaulettes.

A VOICE.

Help!

THE DUKE.

And I slip on leather shoulder-belts!

A VOICE.

Dragoon, reach me your hands!

ANOTHER.

They're shot away!

THE DUKE.

Ah! whither turn?

VOICES.

The ravens!

THE DUKE.

Horrible!

The wooden soldiers ranged upon my table!

THE VOICES.

Horses have trampled on me! Drink!--The ravens!

I'm dying!--How I suffer!--G.o.d forgive me!

The ravens!--Help!

THE DUKE.

Alas! Where are the Eagles?

THE VOICES.

Water!--This brook runs blood!--Yet let me drink!

I thirst!--I die!--G.o.d's curse!--I'm hurt!--Mother!

THE DUKE.

Ah!

A VOICE.

For G.o.d's sake! put a bullet through my head!

THE DUKE.

Ah! Now I understand my wakeful nights--

A VOICE.

Curse the Light Cavalry! They're base a.s.sa.s.sins!

THE DUKE.

The racking cough that wakes me in a sweat!

A VOICE.

I cannot drag my leg! Oh, wrench it off!

THE DUKE.

The blood I spit! I know whose blood it is!

THE PLAIN.

Ah!--Ah--!

THE DUKE.

And all the arms! And all the arms I see!

The handless wrists! The hands with shattered fingers!

The monstrous harvest which a mighty wind Bends me-ward with a curse! Oh! Mercy! Mercy!

Old Cuira.s.sier, groaning with outstretched hands-- Horrible agonized hands with b.l.o.o.d.y wrists!-- Mercy! Poor little Private of the Guards, Who slowly raise your livid face to mine!

Look not upon me with those glazing eyes!

Why do you creep upon me through the gloom?

G.o.d! 'Tis as though you strove to utter cries!

Why do you all suck in a mighty breath?

Why do you open horror-sated lips?

What will you cry?--What?--What?