HUMANITY, delighting to behold <br />A fond reflection of her own decay, <br />Hath painted Winter like a traveller old, <br />Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day, <br />In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain, <br />As though his weakness were disturbed by pain: <br />Or, if a juster fancy should allow <br />An undisputed symbol of command, <br />The chosen sceptre is a withered bough, <br />Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand. <br />These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn; <br />But mighty Winter the device shall scorn. <br /> <br />For he it was--dread Winter! who beset, <br />Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net, <br />That host, when from the regions of the Pole <br />They shrunk, insane ambition's barren goal-- <br />That host, as huge and strong as e'er defied <br />Their God, and placed their trust in human pride! <br />As fathers persecute rebellious sons, <br />He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; <br />He called on Frost's inexorable tooth <br />Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold; <br />Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs; <br />For why--unless for liberty enrolled <br />And sacred home--ah! why should hoary Age be bold? <br /> <br />Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed, <br />But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind, <br />Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed, <br />And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind, <br />And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride, <br />And to the battle ride. <br />No pitying voice commands a halt, <br />No courage can repel the dire assault; <br />Distracted spiritless, benumbed, and blind, <br />Whole legions sink--and, in one instant, find <br />Burial and death: look for them--and descry, <br />When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky, <br />A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy!<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-french-army-in-russia-1812-13/
