from Canto VIII

31

Perceiving then no more the commandant
     Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which had
Quite disappeared—the Gods know how! (I can’t
     Account for every thing which may look bad
In history; but we at least may grant
    It was not marvellous that a mere lad,
In search of glory, should look on before,
Nor care a pinch of snuff about his corps):—

32

Perceiving nor commander nor commanded,
     And left at large, like a young heir, to make
His way to—where he knew not—single handed;
     As travellers follow over bog and brake
An “Ignis fatuus”; or as sailors stranded
    Unto the nearest hut themselves betake;
So Juan, following honour and his nose,
Rushed where the thickest fire announced most foes.

33

He knew not where he was, nor greatly cared,
     For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins
Filled as with lightning—for his Spirit shared
     The hour, as is the case with lively brains;
And where the hottest fire was seen and heard,
    And the loud cannon pealed his hoarsest strains,
He rushed, while Earth and Air were sadly shaken
By thy humane discovery, Friar Bacon!

34

And as he rushed along, it came to pass he
     Fell in with what was late the second column,
Under the orders of the General Lascy,
     But now reduced, as is a bulky volume
Into an elegant extract (much less massy)
     Of heroism, and took his place with solemn
Air ‘midst the rest, who kept their valiant faces
And levelled weapons still against the glacis.

35

Just at this crisis up came Johnson too,
     Who had “retreated,” as the phrase is when
Men run away much rather than go through
     Destruction’s jaws into the devil’s den;
But Johnson was a clever fellow, who
     Knew when and how “to cut and come again,”
And never ran away, except when running
Was nothing but a valourous kind of cunning.

36

And so, when all his corps were dead or dying,
     Except Don Juan,—a mere novice, whose
More virgin valour never dreamt of flying,
    From ignorance of danger, which indues
Its votaries, like Innocence relying
    On its own strength, with careless nerves and thews,—
Johnson retired a little, just to rally
Those who catch cold in “shadows of Death’s valley.”

37

And there, a little sheltered from the shot,
    Which rained from bastion, battery, parapet,
Rampart, wall, casement, house—for there was not
     In this extensive city, sore beset
By Christian soldiery, a single spot
     Which did not combat like the devil, as yet,—
He found a number of Chasseurs, all scattered
By the resistance of the chase they battered.

38

And these he called on; and, what’s strange, they came
     Unto his call, unlike “the Spirits from
The vasty deep,” to whom you may exclaim,
    Says Hotspur, long ere they will leave their home.
Their reasons were uncertainty, or shame
     At shrinking from a bullet or a bomb,
And that odd impulse, which in wars or creeds
Makes men, like cattle, follow him who leads.

39

By Jove! he was a noble fellow, Johnson,
     And though his name, than Ajax or Achilles
Sounds less harmonious, underneath the sun soon
     We shall not see his likeness: he could kill his
Man quite as quietly as blows the Monsoon
     Her steady breath (which some months the same still is):
Seldom he varied feature, hue, or muscle,
And could be very busy without bustle;

40

And therefore, when he ran away, he did so
     Upon reflection, knowing that behind
He would find others who would fain be rid so
     Of idle apprehensions, which like wind
Trouble heroic stomachs. Though their lids so
     Oft are soon closed, all heroes are not blind,
But when they light upon immediate death,
Retire a little, merely to take breath.