Lesson 43 WaterlooThere was a sound of revelry by night,And Belgium's capital had gathered thenHer beauty and her chivalry, and brightThe lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men:A thousand hearts beat happily; and whenMusic arose with its voluptuous swell,Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,And all went merry as a marriage bell;But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.Did ye not hear it?―No; 'twas but the wind,Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet,To chase the glowing hours with flying feet:―But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,As if the clouds its echo would repeat;And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!―Arm! arm! it is―it is―the cannon's opening roar!Within a windowed niche of that high hallSate Brunswick's fated chieftain: he did hearThat sound the first amidst the festival,And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear;And when they smiled because he deemed it near,His heart more truly knew that peal too wellWhich stretched his father on a bloody bier,And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell:
