more decidedly forwards as the hero in his
own person.

In passing to Brussels he visited the field of Waterloo, and the
slight sketch which he has given in the poem of that eventful
conflict is still the finest which has yet been written on the
subject.

But the note of his visit to the field is of more importance to my
present purpose, inasmuch as it tends to illustrate the querulous
state of his own mind at the time.

"I went on horseback twice over the field, comparing it with my
recollection of similar scenes. As a plain, Waterloo seems marked
out for the scene of some great action, though this may be mere
imagination. I have viewed with attention those of Platea, Troy,
Mantinea, Leuctra, Chaevronae, and Marathon, and the field round Mont
St Jean and Hugoumont appears to want little but a better cause and
that indefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages throws
around a celebrated spot, to vie in interest with any or all of
these, except perhaps the last-mentioned."

The expression "a better cause," could only have been engendered in
mere waywardness; but throughout his reflections at this period a
peevish ill-will towards England is often manifested, as if he sought
to attract attention by exasperating the national pride; that pride
which he secretly flattered himself was to be augmented by his own
fame.

I cannot, in tracing his travels through the third canto, test the
accuracy of his descriptions as in the former two; but as they are
all drawn from actual views they have the same vivid individuality
impressed upon them. Nothing can be more simple and affecting than
the following picture, nor less likely to be an imaginary scene:

By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,
There is a small and simple pyramid,
Crowning the summit of the verdant mound;
Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid,
Our enemies. And let not that forbid
Honour to Marceau, o'er whose early tomb
Tears, big tears, rush'd from the rough soldier's lid,
Lamenting and yet envying such a doom,
Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume.

Perhaps few passages of descriptive poetry excel that in which
reference is made to the column of Avenches, the ancient Aventicum.
It combines with an image distinct and picturesque, poetical
associations full of the grave and moral breathings of olden forms
and hoary antiquity.

By a lone wall, a lonelier column rears
A gray and grief-wor