Poem by William Edmondstoune Aytoun

Louis Napoleon’s Address to his Army

Guards! who at Smolensko fled –
No – I beg your pardon – bled!
For my Uncle blood you’ve shed,
            Do the same for me.
     
Now’s the day and now’s the hour,
Heads to split and streets to scour;
Strike for rank, promotion, power,
            Swag, and eau de vie.
     
Who’s afraid a child to kill?
Who respects a shop man’s till?
Who would pay a tailor’s bill?
            Let him turn and flee.

Who would burst a goldsmith’s door,
Shoot a dun, or sack a store?
Let him arm, and go before – 
            That is, follow me!

See the mob, to madness riled,
Up the barricades have piled;
In among them, man and child,
            Unrelentingly!
     
Shoot the men! there’s scarcely one
In a dozen’s got a gun:
Stop them, if they try to run,
            With artillery!
     
Shoot the boys! each one may grow
Into – of the state – a foe
(Meaning by the state, you know,
            My supremacy!)
     
Shoot the girls and women old!
Those may bear us traitors bold–
These may be inclined to scold
            Our severity.
     
Sweep the streets of all who may
Rashly venture in the way,
Warning for a future day
            Satisfactory.

Then, when still’d is ev’ry voice,
We, the nation’s darling choice,
Calling on them to rejoice,
            Tell them, FRANCE IS FREE.

1. The Old Camp
2. Blind Old Milton
3. Epitaph of Constantine Kanaris
4. The Refusal of Charon
5. The Broken Pitcher

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