66 



TO THE WOODBINE. 



capital. The emperor returned from Elba. Marie, overjoyed at the 

 event, sold her irons, slung her keg across her shoulder, and set out 

 on foot for Lille, where she found a general of the Old Guard who 

 knew her. She received a suttler's licence, and was attached to the 

 guard, who received her in a manner worthy of herself. Mary had 

 recovered all the freshness of youth she was triumphant and carried 

 with pride her little tri-coloured keg. Fortune had, however, re- 

 solved to betray her. 



It was never her custom to remain in the rear with the baggage. 

 At Fleurus, therefore, in the thickest of the melee, she was knocked 

 down and trampled under foot by a squadron of English dragoons 

 returning from an unsuccessful charge ; notwithstanding the hurts 

 she received, she was, nevertheless, present on the morning of the 

 18th on the fatal field of Waterloo. 



From the very commencement of the affair, she appeared to have 

 a presentiment of a defeat, and even communicated her fears in a 

 low tone of voice to those around her. In the afternoon, foreseeing 

 that she should not much longer have to deal out her brandy to her 

 comrades, she resolved to look upon the emperor once again, and 

 having gratified her wish, she returned where the fire was hottest. 

 About half-past seven in the evening, Marie was in the centre of one 

 of the squares of the Guard, distributing her drams gratis, and her 

 consolations to the wounded, who were too numerous to be carried off 

 the field. At eight o'clock, when the fatal cry of " Sauve qui pent !" 

 was heard, a bullet struck her in the side, and passed through her 

 keg and her body : she fell, crying " Vive I'Empereur !" Five minutes 

 afterwards, as she was crawling towards a wounded grenadier, on 

 whose body she sought to pillow her head, a spent ball struck her in 

 the face, and horribly disfigured her. Still her spirit was unsubdued, 

 and wiping the blood from her mouth, she cried, " Five la France !" 

 A wounded grenadier, the same on whom she intended to lay her 

 head, recognized her voice, and raising himself up with difficulty, 

 asked how it was with her ? Poor Marie answered, with a forced 

 smile, ({ I am the daughter, wife, mother, and widow of a trooper;" 

 and she expired ! 



TO THE WOODBINE. 



How gracefully around yon trellised bower 

 The spiral Woodbine twines its slender stem, 

 Blushing with many a bright and starry gem, 

 Shedding the sweetness of its fragrant flower ! 

 Around and round its pliant tendrils twine, 

 Like a fond infant, longing to be prest 

 More closely to its mother's teeming breast, 

 With pure affection's sympathy divine. 

 How modestly to each soft breeze it quivers, 

 Basking its dewy eyelids in the sun, 

 Bathing its pearly lashings 'neath the moon, 

 Until the winter comes, and then it withers ! 

 Affection thus, around the heart most cherished, 

 Twines till the loved or loving one hath perished. 



