History & Politics
The Midnight Review
Translated by James Clarence Mangan (1845) · From Poems, ed. John Mitchel (New York, 1859)
WHEN midnight hour is come,
The drummer forsakes his tomb,
And marches, beating his phantom-drum
To and fro through the ghastly gloom.
He plies the drumsticks twain,
With fleshless fingers pale,
And beats, and beats again and again,
A long and dreary re veil!
Like the voice of abysmal waves
Kesounds its unearthly tone,
Till the dead old soldiers, long in their graves,
Awaken through every zone.
And the slain in the land of the Hun,
And the frozen in the icy north,
And those who under the burning sun
Of Italy sleep, come forth.
And they whose bones longwhile
Lie bleaching in Syrian sands,
And the slumberers under the reeds of the Nile,
Arise, with arms in their hands.
And at midnight, in his shroud,
The trumpeter leaves his tomb,
And blows a blast long, deep, and loud,
As he rides through the ghastly gloom.
And the yellow moonlight shines
On the old Imperial Dragoons;
And the Cuirassiers they form in lines,
And the Carabineers in platoons.
At a signal the ranks unsheathe
Their weapons in rear and van;
But they scarcely appear to speak or breathe,
And their features are sad and wan.
in.
And when midnight robes the sky,
The Emperor leaves his tomb,
And rides along, surrounded by
His shadowy staff, through the gloom.
A silver star so bright
Is glittering on his breast;
In an uniform of blue and white
And a grey camp-frock he is dressed.
The moonbeams shine afar
On the various marshalled groups,
As the Man with the glittering silver star
Proceeds to review his troops.
And the dead battalions all
Go again through their exercise,
Till the moon withdraws, and a gloomier pall
Of blackness wraps the skies.
Then around their chief once more
The Generals and Marshals throng;
And he whispers a word oft heard before
In the ear of his aide-de-camp.
In files the troops advance,
And then are no longer seen.
The challenging watchword given is " France!"
The answer is " St. Helene!"
And this is the Grand Review,
Which at midnight on the wolds,
If popular tales may pass for true,
The buried Emperor holds.
Cite this poem
MLA
Zedlitz, Joseph Christian von. “The Midnight Review.” Translated by James Clarence Mangan. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/zedlitz/0/.
Chicago
Zedlitz, Joseph Christian von. “The Midnight Review.” Translated by James Clarence Mangan. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/zedlitz/0/.