SUMMARY

There was sound of revelry by night: A ball was given at Brussels on the evening before the battle of Quatre Bras, which occurred two days before the Battle of Waterloo; Belgiums capital had then gathered her beauty and chivalry while her lamps shone brightly over fair women and brave men. The thousand hearts beat happily when the music arose with its voluptuous swell and all went out merry as though summoned to church by the wedding bells. Then suddenly a deep sound struck like a rising knell. It might be that no everyone heard it for the rest thought it to be the powerful movement of the wind or the rattling of a car over the stony street. Yet the patriots moved on with the dance and did not confine their joy nor did they sleep till morning. When the youth and their pleasure met to chase the glowing hours with flying feet, suddenly the heavy sound broke in once more and the clouds repeated its echo. The sound was felt coming nearer and deadlier than before. Finally it became all clear that it was the arm of the cannons opening roar.

The fated chieftain of Brunswick; Frederick William, Duke of Brunswick; sate: sat; within a windowed niche of the great high hall. He first heard the sound in the midst of the festival and immediately understood its tone to be caught up with deaths prophetic ear. When his people smiled because he deemed the roaring sound near, his heart knew more truly that pealed too well which stretched his fathers honour on a bloody bier. He also knew that it was only by rousing the vengeance blood alone that could quell his desire for ultimate justice. He rushed into the battlefield and died fighting in the forefront of the battle and unfortunately for his men who had to hurry to and fro. All his people gathered tears in their eyes and felt the trembling of distress with their cheeks all pale. Perhaps an hour ago, they blushed at the praise of their own loveliness when they had to experience the sudden partings like pressing the life out of young hearts and choking their sighs which might never be repeated. No one could guess if those mutual eyes should ever meet again, since upon the night that is so sweet should such an awful morning rise.

There was mounting on horsebacks in great haste. The steed in mustering squadron: gathering army; and the clattering car charged forward with impetuous speed and swiftly forming themselves into ranks of war. The deep thunder of canons peal on peal far and near while the beat of the alarming drums roused up the soldiers before the morning star came up. The citizens

thronged and were dumb-struck with terror and whispering with white lips that the foe was coming. The wild and high note of the Camerons gathering: the war song of the Cameron clan; rose even on behalf of Lochiel: the Cameron clan is from Lochiel in Scotland; which was heard in the Albyn hills too; Albyn: a poetic name for Scotland; to have her Saxon foes: the English (since they belonged to Saxon stock while the Scots were mainly of Celtic origin). At mid-day and midnight the Pibroch: a kind of Highland bagpipe; thrills with shrill and savage notes, whose breath fills their mountain pipes and the mountaineers too with the fierce native daring courage which instills the stirring memories of a thousand years and Evan, Donald: Evan Cameron and Donald Cameron, two Scottish chieftains who supported the Stuarts; fame rings in each clansmans ears.

The Andennes: a large forest in Northern France, Belgium and Luxemburg; waves her green leaves above them. They pass by grieving the natures teardrop of dew. Over the un -returning brave patriots before the evening could be trodden like the grass which now lie beneath them but above shall grow in its next verdure this fiery mass of living vapour rolling on the foe and burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low. In the previous afternoon, they were full of lusty life and in the previous evening, they were happy and gay in beautys circle. However by midnight, it brought the signal sound of strife and by morning the men were marshaled in arms. The battle of the day was magnificently stern array. The thunder clouds sounded close over it which when rent, the earth is covered thick with other clay. The own clay of the earth shall cover, heap and pent: closely confined; the rider and horse, friend and foe in one red burial blent: blended i.e. lying together.

The maps of Europe were drawn and redrawn many times during the Eighteenth and the Nineteenth centuries. Countries became nations and empires which in no time were reverted back to nations and countries. It was not uncommon for people of those times to lay down

spoons and forks in the dead of night and take muskets and pistols to brave war. Lord Byron in his famous poem portrays such a scene from the European arena.
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Political thought should be followed by political action. Spoon and fork lain down to take musket and pistol. The war of English and the French enters Belgium in the dead of night. Heavy cannon fire shatters the sound of midnight revelry. Youth and Pleasure chase the night with flying feet. Midnight carnival turns into a carnelian carnage. Love or lust or wine, the Scottish soldiers are duty-bound. Squadrons and chariots swiftly forming in ranks of war. The Ardennes Great Woods shed tear drops over the unreturning brave. Morning noon and night, and morning day again.

Political thought should be followed by political action.

Byron in Albanian Dress.

George Gordon Noel Lord Byron was born in England in the Eighteenth century and lived through the Nineteenth century. He was a lame person and so he could not take part in the active moments of his nation. Because of this handicap, he possessed exceptional vigour, strength, courage and force at least in his writings. He believed that political thought should immediately be followed by political action. He had firm political opinions which could not be uttered in his century which naturally made him to turn himself into an irresistible revolutionary

poet. His name stands brilliant and great among the star line of English poets. The Vision of Judgment, The Prisoner of Chillon and Childe Harolds Pilgrimage are his most famous poems.

Spoon and fork lain down to take musket and pistol.

Vast Belgian halls where rich and famous assembled

Childe Harold means the child of Harrow University which was the poet himself. Childe Harold s Pilgrimage is a long poem in which Byron describes his European travels. There are perhaps only two other famous poems of the like in English literature. They are Matthew Arnolds The Scholar Gipsy and William Wordsworths Tintern Abbey Revisited. T hese three constitute the University Trio in English poetry. Waterloo is a famous section from Childe Harolds Pilgrimage.

The war of English and the French enters Belgium in the dead of night.

A ball in Brussels in 1815.

In Belgium he attended a midnight ball of the rich and famous in Brussels, the capital city. It was at that time that the French and English opened war which soon reached Belgium. The midnight revelry was broke down by cannon fire but instead of the expected chaos, Byron could not help but admire what he saw of the quickness with which the Scottish soldiers there responded to the sudden attack. Due to graphic descriptions of contradicting scenes before and after the outbreak of sudden war, this part of the poem became memorably fine and specially noted in the poem.

Heavy cannon fire shatters the sound of midnight revelry.

Battle in Brussels. Formed in ranks of war.

All the brave and beautiful in Brussels were assembled in that ball room in a large mansion to celebrate night. There were not less than a thousand people gathered in that vast hall. Lamps shone bright everywhere and soft music filled the atmosphere. It was not just opulence and extravaganza of the rich and powerful. Belgians thought and did everything great and magnificent. Electricity in the atmosphere could be touched by hand. Loving eyes exchanged glances. All went merry as a marriage bell until the deep sound of a cannon struck.

Youth and Pleasure chase the night with flying feet.

Austro-Bavarian-French Battery Charge.

In the midst of the revelry, most of them did not recognize it to be sound of French guns. Some said it was wind and some said it was chariot passing through the stony street. The midnight revelry continued. People had decided to sleep not till morn. Youth and Pleasure had decided to chase the night with flying feet. Personification of Pleasure here is delightful and apt, resembling Miltons personification of Laughter in his University poem LAllegro. The aristocrats, government officers, soldiers, students, lovers and lazy personages all reverted back to merriment and carnal festivity. Then the heavy sound was heard once again, this time nearer and louder. Now there was no doubt it was the opening roar of cannons.

Midnight carnival turns into a carnelian carnage.

The Scotts riding to battle.

The noble Duke of Brunswick was sitting in a niche in the festivity hall, passively nursing his drinks. He was fighting on the part of the English and had anger towards the French for taking away his power and authority. He was a soldier head to heel, was always alert and was the first to recognize the sound as a cannons roar. When he said it and said it was near, the others laughed. But he knew the sound too well which had stretched his father, a great Chieftain, on a bed of blood years ago. His desire for long awaited vengeance was immediately roused; he rushed into the field outside and fell fighting foremost as a hero. The Duke of Brunswicks reaction to the sound of cannon heard in the distance was a forewarning to the massacre and carnelian carnage that was to follow. War was at their door step. Byrons description of the reverberating din of merriment in the hall and the heart-rending rush to his death by the Duke of Brunswick are equally classical.

Love or lust or wine, the Scottish soldiers are duty-bound.

Byron Abroad. His Reception at Missolonghi.

It is interesting to note how this sudden crisis affected the Scottish soldiers present. Death of the Duke of Brunswick confirmed that it was not a joke but actual war. No one had thought such awful a morn could rise upon such sweet a night. Dancing stopped and partners parted. Some wept, some trembled, some sighed and all were pale. Many doubted whether they would ever meet again. The civilians all were dumb struck and silent, but the Scottish soldiers in the assembling were the first to recover. Love or lust or wine, they proved once more that they were duty-bound.

Squadrons and chariots swiftly forming in ranks of war.

Reenactment of Battle of Waterloo 1815.

They soon began to prepare for the war. There were hurried movements everywhere. Horses were quickly mounted; squadrons and chariots rode out with impetuous speed and all swiftly formed in ranks of war. Horns and trumpets were sounded which roused all soldiers into action. Famous Scottish war songs trumpeted through Scottish bagpipes resounded through the columns and ranks of the armies and thrilled even the enemies. The famous song, Camerons Gathering rose high and wild and echoeing through the Albions Hills, and reached the AngloSaxons as well as the French. In no time the soldiers were marching away to the battle field.

The Ardennes Great Woods shed tear drops over the unreturning brave.

Ardennes shed tears over the unreturning brave.

Byron stood apart and watched the soldiers marching away to Waterloo. This last part of this portion of the poem is his reflections on the soldiers marching away to their death and glory. It is not possible that many of them may return alive to their land. As the English army marched away through the Ardennes Great Woods, trees waved their branches and shed tear drops over the unreturning brave. It was natures send-off and lamentation for her dearest of sons.

Morning noon and night, and morning day again.

Artificial hill raised on the spot of Waterloo.

This lamentation of the woods is a fine and memorable scene in the poem, an achievement of Byrons poetical diction and imagination. The brave soldiers who are now treading the grass might be dead and lying cold and low beneath the same grass before evening. The descriptions go through the calendar of activities of the day: Morning, evening, midnight, morning and day again; how quick and unexpected was the transformation from the peak of happiness to the depth of distress! But death would show no distinctions to man or beast. When the thunder clouds of the war clear away, the Earth would be uniformly covered with dead soldiers from both sides. Nature shows her kindness and justice by allowing the rider and horse and friend and foe to share and enjoy the same red burial ground which is grand and majestic after a war.