William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909.
The Battle of BlenheimRobert Southey (17741843)
I
Old Kaspar’s work was done,
And he, before his cottage door,
Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green,
His little grandchild, Wilhelmine.
Roll something large and round,
That he, beside the rivulet
In playing there, had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth and round.
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,—
‘’Tis some poor fellow’s skull,’ said he,
‘Who fell in the great victory.
There’s many here about;
And often, when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out!
For many thousand men,’ said he,
‘Were slain in that great victory.’
Young Peterkin, he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
‘Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for?’
‘Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for,
I could not well make out;
But everybody said,’ quoth he,
‘That ’twas a famous victory!
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head!
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.
And our good Prince Eugene.’
‘Why ’twas a very wicked thing!’
Said little Wilhelmine.
‘Nay,—nay,—my little girl,’ quoth he,
‘It was a famous victory!’
Who this great fight did win.’
‘But what good came of it at last?’
Quoth little Peterkin.
‘Why, that I cannot tell,’ said he,
‘But ’twas a famous victory.’