X.

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Within the extent of this fortification

A borough is compris'd, along the height
Upon the left, which from its loftier station
Commands the city, and upon its site
A Greek had rais'd around this elevation
A quantity of palisades upright,
So plac'd as to impede the fire of those
Who held the place, and to assist the foe's.

XI.

This circumstance may serve to give a notion
Of the high talents of this new Vauban:
But the town ditch below was deep as ocean,
The rampart higher than you'd wish to hang :
But then there was a great want of precaution,

(Prithee, excuse this engineering slang),
Nor work advanc'd, nor cover'd way, was there,
To hint at least "Here is no thoroughfare."

XII.

But a stone bastion, with a narrow gorge,

And walls as thick as most sculls born as yet:
Two batteries, cap-à-pie, as our St. George,
Case-mated one, and t'other" a barbette,"
Of Danube's bank took formidable charge;
While two and twenty cannon, duly set,

Rose over the town's right side, in bristling tier,
Forty feet high, upon a cavalier.

XIII.

But from the river the town's open quite,

Because the Turks could never be persuaded

A Russian vessel e'er would heave in sight;

And such their creed was, till they were invaded,

When it grew rather late to set things right;
But, as the Danube could not well be waded,

They look'd upon the Muscovite flotilla,

And only shouted "Allah!" and "Bis Millah!"

XIV.

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12

13

The Russians now were ready to attack;
But, O ye goddesses of war and glory,

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How shall I spell the name of each Cossacque,

Who were immortal, could one tell their story?

Alas! what to their memory can lack?

Achilles self was not more grim and gory Than thousands of this new and polish'd nation, Whose names want nothing but-pronunciation.

XV.

Still I'll record a few, if but to increase

Our euphony: there was Strongenoff, and Strokonoff, Meknop, Serge Lwdw, Arseniew of modern Greece,

And Tschitsshakoff, and Roguenoff, and Chokenoff, And others of twelve consonants apiece;

And more might be found out, if I could poke enough Into gazettes; but Fame (capricious strumpets),

It seems, has got an ear as well as trumpet,

XVI.

And cannot tune these discords of narration,
Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme :
Yet there were several worth commemoration,
As e'er was virgin of a nuptial chime;
Soft words, too, fitted for the peroration
Of Londonderry, drawling against time,

Ending in "ischskin," "ousckin," "iffskchy," ouski,"
Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski,

XVII.

Scherematoff, and Chrematoff, Koklophti,
Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin,

All proper men of weapons, as e'er scoff'd high
Against a foe, or ran a sabre through skin:
Little car'd they for Mahomet or Mufti,

Unless to make their kettle-drums a new skin
Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear,
And no more handy substitute been near.

XVIII.

Then there were foreigners, of much renown,
Of various nations, and all volunteers;

Not fighting for their country or its crown,
But wishing to be, one day, brigadiers;

Also to have the sacking of a town;

A pleasant thing to young men at their years. 'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith, Sixteen call'd Thomson, and nineteen nam❜d Smith.

XIX.

Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson;-all the rest
Had been call'd "Jemmy," after the great bard;
I don't know whether they had arms or crest,
But such a godfather's as good a card.

Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best
Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward,
Was he, since so renown'd "in country quarters
At Halifax;" but now he serv'd the Tartars.

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16

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XX.

The rest were Jacks, and Gills, and Wills, and Bills, 20 But when I've added that the elder Jack Smith

Was born in Cumberland, among the hills,

And that his father was an honest blacksmith,

I've said all I know of a name that fills

Three lines of the dispatch in taking "Schmacksmith," A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein

He fell, immortal in a bulletin.

XXI.

I wonder (although Mars no doubt 's a god I
Praise) if a man's name in a bulletin
May make up for a bullet in his body?

I hope this little question is no sin,

Because, though I am but a simple noddy,

I think one Shakspeare puts the same thought in The mouth of some one in his plays so doating, Which many people pass for wits by quoting.

XXII.

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Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young, and gay: 22 But I'm too great a patriot to record

Their Gallic names upon a glorious day;

I'd rather tell ten lies than say a word

Of truth:-such truths are treason; they betray
Their country; and, as traitors are abhorr'd,

Who name the French in English, save to show

How Peace should make John Bull the Frenchman's foe.

XXIII.

The Russians, having built two batteries on
An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view:
The first was to bombard it, and knock down
The public buildings and the private, too,
No matter what poor souls might be undone.
The city's shape suggested this, 'tis true;
Form'd like an amphitheatre, each dwelling
Presented a fine mark to throw a shell in.
XXIV.

The second object was to profit by

The moment of the general consternation,
To attack the Turks' flotilla, which lay nigh,
Extremely tranquil, anchor'd at its station :
But a third motive was as probably

To frighten them into capitulation;
A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors,
Unless they are game as bull-dogs and fox-terriers.

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XXV.

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A habit rather blameable, which is

That of despising those we combat with,
Common in many cases, was in this

The cause of killing Tchitchitzkoff and Smith;
One of the valorous "Smiths" whom we shall miss
Out of those nineteen who late rhym'd to "pith;"
But 't is a name so spread o'er "Sir" and " Madam,"
That one would think the first who bore it "Adam."
XXVI.

The Russian batteries were incomplete,

Because they were constructed in a hurry;

Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet, And throws a cloud o'er Longman and John Murray,

When the sale of new books is not so fleet

As they who print them think is necessary,
May likewise put off, for a time, what story
Sometimes calls "murder," and, at others, "glory."

XXVII.

Whether it was their engineers' stupidity,

Their haste or waste, I neither know nor care,

Or some contractor's personal cupidity,
Saving his soul by cheating in the ware

Of homicide; but there was no solidity
In the new batteries erected there;

They either miss'd, or they were never miss'd,
And added greatly to the missing list.

XXVIII.

A sad miscalculation about distance

Made all their naval matters incorrect;
Three fireships lost their amiable existence
Before they reach'd a spot to take effect:

The match was lit too soon, and no assistance
Could remedy this lubberly defect;

They blew up in the middle of the river,

While, though 't was dawn, the Turks slept fast as ever.

XXIX.

At seven they rose, however, and survey'd
The Russ flotilla getting under way;
'T was nine, when still advancing, undismay'd,
Within a cable's length their vessels lay
Off Ismail, and commenc'd a cannonade,

Which was return'd with interest, I may say,

And by a fire of musketry and grape,
And shells and shot of every size and shape.

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XXX.

For six hours bore they, without intermission,
The Turkish fire; and, aided by their own

Land batteries, work'd their guns with great precision:
At length they found mere cannonade alone

By no means would produce the town's submission,
And made a signal to retreat, at one.

One bark blew up, a second, near the works
Running aground, was taken by the Turks.

XXXI.

The Moslem, too, had lost both ships and men;
But, when they saw the enemy retire,
Their Delhis mann'd some boats, and sail'd again,
And gall'd the Russians with a heavy fire,
And tried to make a landing on the main;

But here the effect fell short of their desire :
Count Damas drove them back into the water,
Pell-mell, and with a whole gazette of slaughter.

XXXII.

"If" (says the historian here) "I could report
All that the Russians did upon this day,
I think that several volumes would fall short,
And I should still have many things to say;"
And so he says no more-but pays his court

To some distinguish'd strangers in that fray;
The Prince de Ligne, and Langeron, and Damas,
Names great as any that the roll of Fame has.

XXXIII.

This being the case, may show us what Fame is,
For out of these three "preux Chevaliers," how
Many of common readers give a guess

That such existed? (and they may live now
For aught we know.) Renown's all hit or miss;
There's fortune even in fame, we must allow.
"T is true, the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne
Have half withdrawn from him oblivion's screen.

XXXIV.

But here are men who fought in gallant actions,
As gallantly as ever heroes fought,
But, buried in the heap of such transactions,
Their names are rarely found, nor often sought.
Thus even good fame may suffer sad contractions,
And is extinguish'd sooner than she ought:
Of all our modern battles, I will bet

You can't repeat nine names from each Gazette.

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