To the Memory of General Sir E—D P—K—M. [58]
Brave spirit! mourn’d with fond regret,
Lost in life’s pride, in valour’s noon,
Oh, who could deem thy star should set
So darkly and so soon!
Fatal, though bright, the fire of mind
Which mark’d and closed thy brief career,
And the fair wreath, by Hope entwined,
Lies wither’d on thy bier.
The soldier’s death hath been thy doom,
The soldier’s tear thy mead shall be;
Yet, son of war! a prouder tomb
Might Fate have rear’d for thee.
Thou shouldst have died, O high-soul’d chief!
In those bright days of glory fled,
When triumph so prevail’d o’er grief
We scarce could mourn the dead.
Noontide of fame! each tear-drop then
Was worthy of a warrior’s grave:
When shall affection weep again
So proudly o’er the brave?
There, on the battle-fields of Spain,
Midst Roncesvalles’ mountain-scene,
Or on Vitoria’s blood-red plain,
Meet had thy deathbed been.
We mourn not that a hero’s life
Thus in its ardent prime should close;
Hadst thou but fallen in nobler strife,
But died midst conquer’d foes!
Yet hast thou still (though victory’s flame
In that last moment cheer’d thee not)
Left Glory’s isle another name,
That ne’er may be forgot:
And many a tale of triumph won
Shall breathe that name in Memory’s ear,
And long may England mourn a son
Without reproach or fear.
[58] Major-general Sir Edward Pakenham, the gallant officer to whose memory these verses are dedicated, fell at the head of the British troops in the unfortunate attack on New Orleans, 8th January 1814. “Six thousand combatants on the British side,” says Mr Alison, “were in the field: a slender force to attack double their number, intrenched to the teeth in works bristling with bayonets and loaded with heavy artillery.”—History of Europe, vol. x. p. 743.
The death of Sir Edward is thus alluded to in the official account of General Keane, communicating the result of the action:—“The advancing columns were discernible from the enemy’s line at more than two hundred yards’ distance, when a destructive fire was instantly opened, not only from all parts of the enemy’s line, but from the battery on the opposite side of the river. The gallant Pakenham, who, during his short but brilliant career, was always foremost in the path of glory and of danger, galloped forward to the front, to animate his men by his presence. He had reached the crest of the glacis, and was in the act of cheering his troops with his hat off, when he received two balls, one in the knee and another in the body. He fell into the arms of Major Macdougal, his aide-de-camp, and almost instantly expired.”—Edinr. An. Regist. 1815, p. 356.