Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Russia: Vol. XX. 1876–79.
Prince Emilius of Hesse-Darmstadt
By Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton (18091885)F
Was Prince Emilius found in fight before the foremost ranks;
And when upon the icy waste that host was backward cast,
On Beresina’s bloody bridge his banner waved the last.
That path across the wildering snow, athwart the blinding sleet;
And every follower of his sword could all endure and dare,
Becoming warriors strong in hope or stronger in despair.
The hungriest must not look for food, the weariest must not sleep;
No rest, but death, for horse or man, whichever first shall tire;—
They see the flames destroy, but ne’er may feel the saving fire.
But from that gallant company some noble part was shorn,
And, sick at heart, the Prince resolved to keep his purposed way,
With steadfast forward looks, nor count the losses of the day.
Each head in frigid stupor bent toward the saddle-bow,—
They paused, and of that sturdy troop, that thousand banded men,
At one unmeditated glance he numbered only ten!
Of all those hearts that beat beloved or looked for love to come,
This piteous remnant hardly saved his spirit overcame,
While memory raised each friendly face and called each ancient name.
That here, with perfect trust in Heaven, we give our bodies rest;
If we have borne, like faithful men, our part of toil and pain,
Where’er we wake, for Christ’s good sake, we shall not sleep in vain.”
Dumb hands were pressed, the pallid lips approached the callous cheek;
They laid them side by side; and death to him at least did seem
To come attired in mazy robe of variegated dream.
His mother’s and one other smile above him seemed to shine;
A blessed dew of healing fell on every aching limb,
Till the stream broadened and the air thickened and all was dim.
Passed o’er his frame exposed and worn and left no deadly blight;
Then wonder not that when refreshed and warm he woke at last,
There lay a boundless gulf of thought between him and the past.
Sheltered beneath a genial heap of vestments not his own;
The light increased, the solemn truth revealing more and more,—
His soldiers’ corses self-despoiled closed up the narrow door.
And Prince Emilius lived to give this worthy deed to fame.
O brave fidelity in death! O strength of loving will!
These are the holy balsam-drops that woeful wars distil.