PART II

Now once on their Way we see the Pair,

When John, as passing, did around him stare;

Though flat the Country, oft he got a peep

At the smooth Tagus in its mazy sweep;

Whose Banks well covered by the richest soil,

Yielding abundant Crops, with scanty Toil.

‘'Tis a fine Country, Teague, one needs must say,

‘ But thousands should not tempt me here to stay.’

‘ I'd not live here,’ says Teague,‘ among the Craters;

‘ Give me dear Ireland, Whiskey and Paraters.’

Thus time beguil'd in social chat was past,

When John reflected he'd not broke his Fast.

When from the Road a narrow path he took,

And gain'd a Rocky Bank, hard by a Brook.

For now friend Sol had his meridian got —

John felt uneasy,‘ twas so scorching hot.

With eager look a survey round he made,

To take advantage of some friendly Shade.

Alas! no friendly Bough would interpose

A shadow large enough to screen his nose,

So, near the spot at which his Dobbins drank,

He crept beneath the shelving of the Bank;

Whilst Teague, regardless of the Sultry ray,

Unpack'd the load, and let the Dobbins stray:

Then spread the Breakfast, which, to John's relief,

Proved a good store of Biscuit, Ham, and Beef.

John, now refresh'd, still closer in did creep,

With Brandy quench'd his thirst, and fell asleep.

Teague hearing now his Master snore profound,

With great composure squatted on the ground;

Then with the Brandy filled the largest Cup —

‘ Here's to good luck!’ said he, then drank it up.

Again replenish'd, down again it goes,—

‘ And that's,’ said Teague,‘ in honour of my Nose.’

Another filled, Teague thought it mighty clever,

Though last, not least,‘ twas‘ Ireland for ever.’

Then cast a look around, to see all right,

Fell on his back, and wish'd himself good Night.

When now the Sun had three parts clear'd his Course,

Teague started up, and look'd for Mule and Horse;

Pack'd up and loaded, and with gentle stroke,

Touching his Master's shoulder, he awoke;

‘'Tis time to March, Sir, and more cool the weather.’

John was content, so off they went together;

Reach'd Gallega that night; Punhete next day.

Poor John knock'd up, began to curse the Way.

‘ Such Bl — st — d Roads will make a Fellow crazy!’

‘ O plase you, Sir,’ said Teague,‘ do just be asy;

‘ By Ja — s‘ tis a turnpike, let me tell ye,

‘ To what you'll meet with at that Villa Velhe.’

John interrupted Teague in his Oration,

To know, was not Abrantes the next Station?

‘ Faith, and it is,’ said Teague,‘ there is no doubt;

‘ Is it not mintioned in your Honour's Route?’

‘ O! D —— n the Route,’ said John;‘ I want to know,

‘ I'm so curst tired, how far we have to go!’

Abrantes Castle now came full in sight,

Much to John's consolation and delight.

A T —— r was its Juiz; as folk say,

If not belied, and in the Frenchman's pay,

A Brutish Coxcomb — rough, and most uncivil,

Who slily wish'd our Army at the Devil;

On all occasions, it was his delight,

On British Officers to vent his spite;

Kept John, with Teague and Baggage, at his Door,

Kicking their heels for full three hours and more.

John fumed and fretted — but‘ twas all in vain;

Till tired to death, his Billet did obtain.

But such a filthy, loathsome, beastly Hut

Mud walls, Mud floor, besmear'd with Slime & Smut!

‘ O L — d!’ says John,‘ pray how shall I contrive,

‘ In this D —— n'd hole, to keep myself alive?’

A half-starved Taylor, vamping up old breeches,

Cried,‘ Viva, Senhor!’ and pursu'd his stitches.

‘ Viver!’ said John,‘ O G — d confound your “viver,”

‘ This horrid place will put me in a Fever.’

Then with Grimaces, Sighs, and Groans, and Shrugs,

Explor'd this den of Lice, and Fleas, and Bugs.

It is a fact well known, the Portuguese

Cherish voluptuously both Lice and Fleas;

Some Bramin-like, are influenc'd by Piety,

But mostly for Amusement, and Society;

For Females oft in parties will carouse,

Scratching each other's Heads, t’ entrap a Louse,

Whilst on their skins, the Fleas will Skip, & Scramble,

And wanton Lice through all their ringlets ramble.

Not that these Gamesome Merriments we find,

As in some Countries, to the Poor confin'd;

Here does their influence undisputed Reign,

From Courtly Nobles, to the humble Swain.

But to resume, poor John, as it was late,

Sadly submitted to his wretched fate;

Rejected Food, on Canteens stretch'd he lay,

And sullen watch'd for the returning Day.

Teague fed his Animals, then took his Dose,

And soon resign'd himself to his repose.

Restless poor John now pass'd the tedious Night,

Each minute starting from a greedy Bite;

With outstretch'd neck, his eyes he cast aloof,

Reliev'd at length by Day-light through the Roof,

Set Teague to work, and so without delay,

Saddled his Dobbins, and went on his way.

Now eagerly he sniffed the fragrant Gale,

The Tagus crossed, and travell'd in the Dale.

Govina, Niza, now left in their Rear,

When Dobbin stopped, and bristled up with fear.

‘ God rot the beast!’ says John in some amaze,

Rose in his stirrups, and did round him gaze:

A sight beheld, that gave his nerves a shock,

A mangled human Body on the Rock.

Transfix'd, he stared with horror and affright,

And roared to hasten Teague with all his might.

Teague unconcerned, with shrug of nonchalance,

Said,‘ O, by Ja — s! you'll ne'er get to France!

‘ He's a Frenchman, Master, that lies sprawling,

‘ The Wolves have given him a pretty mauling.’

‘ What, Teague,’ said John, who felt another dread,

‘ Is't Wolves that have upon this Carcase fed?’

Again with horror did around him peer;

‘ Wo n't they attack us, Teague?’ they must be near.

‘ Attack,’ says Teague,‘ your honour need not fright;

‘ If we were dead, and Travelling here, they might.’

John tired, and anxious, now began to grumble,

The cursed, rugged Road, made Dobbin stumble;

Some sad mishap his senses now forebodes,

When Teague exclaims,‘ These are the Devil's own Roads!’

Now from a Cliff they view'd a Gulph below,

Where Tagus sternly midst the Rocks did flow,

A narrow path they follow'd, jam'd with stones,

John, Dobbin led, and trembled for his bones:

Scrambling, & straggling, step from Ridge to Ridge;

At length, the danger passed, they reach'd the Bridge.

Now on their Route we find them each day gaining,

But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas'd complaining;

Grown used to suffer Insolence and Pillage

In every beastly town and dirty Village;

To see Religion made the tool of Knaves;

To crush morality, and nourish Slaves.

As now to Salamanca near John drew,

Pleas'd that to Portugal he'd bid adieu,

Was told to hasten — there might be a Fight,

The Hostile foes were in each other's sight:

With British ardour thrilling thro’ each vein;

Urged by an impulse nothing could restrain.

John's soul was meek, but he felt in truth

With all the bashful modesty of Youth;

From his blest native Soil he did inherit

A bold, determined mind, and active spirit;

Nought could his zealous energy oppose,

He'd join his Reg'ment, and he'd face its Foes —

Boldly push'd on to share in the Attack,

And found the brave King's Own in Bivouac.

All here to John appear'd both strange, and new,

He knew not what to say, nor what to do;

Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,—

Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost.

Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood,

Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood.

And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap,

In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep.

And now a crowd of Officers he sees,

On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease.

John went to seek the Officer Commanding:

An Officer replied,‘ Sir, there he's standing.’

John now with modesty reveal'd his Name,

Told him the Rank he held, and how he came.

The Officer his aid now friendly lent him,

Proposing to the Colonel to present him.

To this John readily gave his assent,

And arm in arm they sociably went.

Arriv'd, the Officer first stepped before,

‘ This, Sir, is Ensign Newcome, of our Corps.’

‘ I'm very glad to see you, Mr. Newcome;

‘'Tis charming weather: pray from whence do you come?’

‘ Uncommon hot, Sir! but I push'd my Cattle,

‘ In hopes I should in time be for the Battle.’

‘ O! you're in famous time, you need not fear:

‘ But you must send your Baggage to the Rear.’

‘ The Devil!’ quoth John,‘ this is a queer beginning,

‘ So sweating Hot, and not a change of Linen.’

And then in modest accents did intreat,

He might reserve his Canteens and his Meat.

‘ By no means, Sir, just now, we Sons of Mars,

‘ Are glad to live on Brandy and Segars.

‘ In anxious times like these, it is our plan,

‘ To satisfy our hunger as we can;

‘ The Ground our Bed, where we contented lie,

‘ Nought interposes‘ twixt us and the Sky.

‘ We first must drub yon Saucy Vapouring Elves,

‘ Then get our Baggage, and enjoy ourselves.’

John listen'd, scrap'd, and bow'd, and then retir'd:

( Not that the Colonel's speech he much admir'd. )

‘ Come,’ said his Friend,‘ cheer up, & do n't be glum.

‘ I've got a Biscuit, and a little Rum.’

‘ No, no,’ said John,‘ I'll from my Canteens borrow,

‘ We'll feast to-day, altho’ we starve to-morrow.

‘ Then hand out, Teague, whatever is to spare,

‘ And let us all the Prog amongst us share.’

Now see him careless stretch'd upon the ground,

Viewing with silent wonder all around.

His brother Officers so oddly drest,

Their ragged Jacket, and their purple Vest;

Reg'mental Great Coats, batter'd, bare, and old;

And Forage Caps that once were blue, and gold.

Shirts of whose proper colour were no trace.

Mustachios, Whiskers, that disguised their face.

Yet all was lively, frolicsome, and gay,

Full of their laughter — full of fun and play.

And now John's Hams and Tongues were all paraded,

And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded;

The flowing Cup they to each other bandy,

They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy.

In course of conversation there arose

A question, as to number of their Foes.

One said there's Twenty Thousand; others swore

There were, they thought, at least as many more:

As many more at least they would maintain —

Look at their Columns stretching o'er the Plain.

John started up, astonish'd to descry

The Hostile Army just below them lie.

‘ O bless my heart!’ said John,‘ what lots of Foes,

‘ They're scattered all about as thick as Crows.’

He view'd them with a keen, astonish'd eye,

Felt rather queer to find they were so nigh.

But snugly kept his thoughts within his breast,

Fearful they'd turn his ignorance to jest.

Now evening closed, and cast a silent gloom;

‘ Come,’ says his friend,‘ lay down, we'll make you room:

‘ Here take this Blanket, and beneath you spread,

‘ And here's a Stone, as Pillow for your Head.’

John thankfully conformed to his advice,

And, like the rest, was snoring in a trice.

Now the bold Leader of each Hostile Band,

Manoeuvred for the‘ vantage of the Land.

At length great Wellington, with his Allies,

Completely took the Frenchmen by surprize,—

Boldly descended in the midst of Day,

Attack'd the French as they supinely lay;

His Light troops skirmishing, began the Battle,

Then thundering Cannon thro’ the Ranks did rattle.

Divisions to Divisions then oppose,

But British valour soon overwhelm'd its Foes.

Then burst the Cavalry with heroic speed,

Charging their Squares, and every where succeed.

Beat at all points, the dastard Frenchmen yield,

Trust all to flight, and scamper from the Field.

Thus the brave British, German, Portuguese,

Fought, Conquer'd, Triumph'd at th’ Arepiles;

And I, to deck my story, fain would sing,

How all the Salamanca Bells did ring;

How Peasants unconcerned, th’ ensuing Day,

Plough'd thro’ the honour'd soil where Heroes lay.

But no — content I'll to my story keep,

And so return to John I left asleep;

Who, wrapt in slumber, care forgetting, lies,

The Long roll Beat — he started, rubb'd his eyes.

‘ Why, what's the matter?— surely it is dark.’

‘ Aye,’ says his friend,‘ we rise before the Lark.

‘ Our Orders are to fall in every Morn,

‘ And stand to Arms an hour before the Dawn;

‘ Come, rouse my honest Fellow, do n't be slack,

‘ At break of day the Frenchmen may attack.’

John rose, but grumbled out,‘ If I'd been told,

‘ They'd start me up thus shivering in the Cold;

‘ To go Campaigning, I would ne'er been led.

‘ But stuck to my own Corps, and Feather-Bed.’

The Adjutant did now friend Johnny fix,

To Captain Bull's division, Number Six;

In Captain Buckett's company, when‘ Lo!’

Says John,‘ I think I Captain Buckett know;

‘ His uncle's Tub the Brewer, I've no doubt,—

‘ Old Buckett lives in Faringdon Without.’

Soon recogniz'd — the Morn began to break;

His Captain begg'd he'd half a biscuit take:

‘ Eat it, my boy, and mind what I shall say,

‘ I'm sure we shall have pepp'ring work to Day;

‘ And drink this Rum, for I'm apt to think

‘ We shall have more to do than eat and drink.’

And he was right; in truth they soon did hear —

A sort of busy Hum came from the Rear.

An Order from the General, to say,

‘ The Column was to move without delay.’

John to his Captain stuck, but was perplex'd

To think of what the deuce was coming next.

Now for three hours they March'd with steady pace,

Till they descended to the Mountain's base.

The Column halted — stood in close Array;

The Light Troops forward push'd to feel the way.

The Muskets’ prittle prattle soon commences,

Along the Front, from Ditches, Walls, and Fences.

Now,‘ scaping from a distant patch of Smoke,

Shells from the Frenchmen's Mortars round them broke.

And now their Field-Guns at the Column aiming,

Shot, after Shot, in peals of thunder coming.

When John this skirmishing did first behold,

He thought the Little Light bobs desperate bold.

But when stray Bullets whistled by his Ear,

John rather shrunk — but‘ twas not done through fear;

‘ Twas his first trial, he could not disguise

A natural impulse, taken by surprise.

Now Bullets, Balls, and Shells around them flew,

As to th’ embattled Foe they nearer drew.

Now to its Right the Column did incline,—

Gain'd its Position, forming into Line;

With slow, but bold, intrepid pace, advance

Amidst the Vollies of the Troops of France.

The Battle soon with death-like fury rag'd.

John's mind, his Eye, his every thought engag'd.

Around him Slaughter dwelt with ruthless Blow,

And Heroes’ blood did in sad torrents flow,

When Johnny suddenly receiv'd command,

He in his Captain's place should take his stand.

Struck by the fragments of a Broken Shell,

Fighting his country's cause, the Hero fell.

Undaunted, undismayed, our gallant John

Took the Command, and bravely led them on.

And now by British valour close assail'd

( For British valour every where prevail'd ),

Three piercing shouts their Hostile Bands invade,

When desperately the British charge was made.

O'erthrown, disorder'd, down their arms they threw,

Whilst British Victors every where pursue.

Thousands lay drench'd in gore upon the plain,

Thousands led Captive in the Conqueror's train.

The Battle o'er, the foe now put to flight,

Chac'd by the Victors till the close of night.

The Gallant Bands to neighbouring heights retire,

In groupes collected, nestle round the Fire;

The conflicts of the day by turns relate,—

Count o'er the slaughtered, and lament their fate.

Stretch'd on the ground, they lay in sound repose,

Nor rous'd from slumber, till the Sun arose.

With melancholy zeal John bent his way

To seek the spot where his brave Captain lay —

Fain would I stop, but truth I must impart,

And spread a gloom o'er every British heart;

As slow his searching eye survey'd the ground,

Bestrew'd with Mangled Carcases around,

He saw, when speechless, horror-struck he stood,

The naked Body weltering in its Blood.

‘ Alas!’ says John, with indignation heated,

‘ Is this the way a gallant Hero's treated?’

And now the Body to the earth he gave,

And with a friendly tear bedew'd the Grave.

When Johnny did a Letter home Indite,

To tell his mother all about the Fight.