THE SAME, FROM THE TOWER OF THE PLEISSENBURG [The tower commands a view of a great part of the battlefield. Day has just dawned, and citizens, saucer-eyed from anxiety and sleeplessness, are discover watching.]

FIRST CITIZEN The wind increased at midnight while I watched, With flapping showers, and clouds that combed the moon, Till dawn began outheaving this huge day, Pallidly—as if scared by its own issue; This day that the Allies with bonded might Have vowed to deal their felling finite blow.

SECOND CITIZEN So must it be! They have welded close the coop Wherein our luckless Frenchmen are enjailed With such compression that their front has shrunk From five miles’ farness to but half as far.— Men say Napoléon made resolve last night To marshal a retreat. If so, his way Is by the Bridge of Lindenau. [They look across in the cold east light at the long straight causeway from the Ranstadt Gate at the north-west corner of the town, and the Lindenau bridge over the Elster beyond.]

FIRST CITIZEN Last night I saw, like wolf-packs, hosts appear Upon the Dresden road; and then, anon, The already stout arrays of Schwarzenberg Grew stoutened more. I witnessed clearly, too, Just before dark, the bands of Bernadotte Come, hemming in the north more thoroughly. The horizon glowered with a thousand fires As the unyielding circle shut around. [As it grows light they scan and define the armies.]

THIRD CITIZEN Those lying there, ’twixt Connewitz and Dolitz, Are the right wing of horse Murat commands. Next, Poniatowski, Victor, and the rest. Out here, Napoléon’s centre at Probstheida, Where he has bivouacked. Those round this way Are his left wing with Ney, that face the north Between Paunsdorf and Gohlis.—Thus, you see They are skilfully sconced within the villages, With cannon ranged in front. And every copse, Dingle, and grove is packed with riflemen. [The heavy sky begins to clear with the full arrival of the morning. The sun bursts out, and the previously dark and gloomy masses glitter in the rays. It is now seven o’clock, and with the shining of the sun, the battle is resumed. The army of Bohemia to the south and east, in three great columns, marches concentrically upon NAPOLÉON’S new and much-contracted line —the first column of thirty-five thousand under BENNIGSEN; the second, the central, forty-five thousand under BARCLAY DE TOLLY; the third, twenty-five thousand under the PRINCE OF HESSE-HOMBURG. An interval of suspense.]

FIRST CITIZEN Ah, see! The French bend, falter, and fall back. [Another interval. Then a huge rumble of artillery resounds from the north.]

SEMICHORUS OF RUMOURS [aerial music] Now Blücher has arrived; and now falls to! Marmont withdraws before him. Bernadotte Touching Bennigsen, joins attack with him, And Ney must needs recede. This serves as sign To Schwarzenberg to bear upon Probstheida— Napoléon’s keystone and dependence here. But for long whiles he fails to win his will, The chief being nigh—outmatching might with skill.

SEMICHORUS II Ney meanwhile, stung still sharplier, still withdraws Nearer the town, and met by new mischance, Finds him forsaken by his Saxon wing— Fair files of thrice twelve thousand footmanry. But rallying those still true with signs and calls, He warely closes up his remnant to the walls.

SEMICHORUS I Around Probstheida still the conflict rolls Under Napoléon’s eye surpassingly. Like sedge before the scythe the sections fall And bayonets slant and reek. Each cannon-blaze Makes the air thick with human limbs; while keen Contests rage hand to hand. Throats shout “advance,” And forms walm, wallow, and slack suddenly. Hot ordnance split and shiver and rebound, And firelocks fouled and flintless overstrew the ground.

SEMICHORUS II At length the Allies, daring tumultuously, Find them inside Probstheida. There is fixed Napoléon’s cardinal and centre hold. But need to loose it grows his gloomy fear As night begins to brown and treacherous mists appear.

CHORUS Then, on the three fronts of this reaching field, A furious, far, and final cannonade Burns from two thousand mouths and shakes the plain, And hastens the sure end! Towards the west Bertrand keeps open the retreating-way, Along which wambling waggons since the noon Have crept in closening file. Dusk draws around; The marching remnants drowse amid their talk, And worn and harrowed horses slumber as the walk. [In the darkness of the distance spread cries from the maimed animals and the wounded men. Multitudes of the latter contrive to crawl into the city, until the streets are full of them. Their voices are heard calling.]

SECOND CITIZEN They cry for water! Let us go down, And do what mercy may. [Exeunt citizens from the tower.]

SPIRIT OF THE PITIES A fire is lit Near to the Thonberg wind-wheel. Can it be Napoléon tarries yet? Let us go see. [The distant firelight becomes clearer and closer.]