Bonaparte

On marches young Bonaparte,

no ounce of trepidation in his heart.

Royalists rioting in the streets of Paris,

Bonaparte mans the barricades and

with a whiff of grapeshot, conquers the mob.

Across the gallic Alps he goes,

The colors of the Revolution in hand,

Just as the Punic General from so long ago,

strides Bonaparte into the Ausonian land.

On the bank of the River Adda,

le petit caporal directs his battery;

bombards the opposing battlements;

orders the crossing. Seeing the advance

of the carbines, the Hapsburgs flee.

Reinforced and resupplied, Mantua under siege he puts.

With Alvinczi he duels at the Bridge of Arcole,

Astounding all, Bonaparte, grabbing the trifold,

takes to the bridge, and with his troops

the bridge, they hold.

Near Rivoli, Bonaparte scales the heights

and blasts the dragoons, who turn in flight.

Here Danubian rule in Italy, the French overthrow.

To Vienna the routed Austrians go.

In Egypt, land of the Mamelukes,

Conquering Bonaparte, in desert sands he must now contend,

While Murad and his Mamelukes come north along Nile's bend,

Bonaparte orders the advance.

The enemy, outdated in weaponry stand no chance.

The Mamelukes charge with no forewarning

Bonaparte observing, forms his squares,

catching his enemy unawares,

and in the shadows of the Pyramids he declares

Victory over the Egyptian lands.

1804, The Emperor with his Grande Armée

are challenged by the Hapsburgs again.

At Ulm The Emperor, outflanks his enemy,

surrounds the Austrian host, capturing General Mack.

At Austerlitz three emperors meet. Bonaparte

against Francis and Alexander. The Emperor deceives

his enemies and weakens his right;

the Russo-Austrians spring his trap,

deploying their combined armies' might,

hoping to turn The Emperor away in flight,

The enemy distracted, Bonaparte seizes the day;

sends his troops in the center into the fray

He overcomes the Allies, their weak center struck and conquered.

One sharp blow and the war is over.

1806, the Fourth Coalition rallies against The Emperor.

Bonaparte rallies his army against Prussia.

At the Battles of Jena-Auerstädt

Bonaparte wins dual victories,

defeating Prussia, conquering its armies.

At Wagram again The Emperor defeats his Austrian foes.

Over the River Danube to surround the Hapsburgs

Bonaparte hooks 'round the left flank

and pins their soldiers on the River's bank.

1811, the fateful year.

Bonaparte still without fear

of defeat invades the Russian lands,

the fate of the Empire

no longer lies in his hands.

'Cross the Nieman,

swiftly to Vilnius.

Smolensk, the gateway to Moscow,

defenders routed, reserves despoiled,

Bonaparte enters and fire is set to the city.

Kutuzov and the Russian retreat; the earth is scorched:

crops, bridges burn.

On the Smolensk Road, into the heart of Russia, goes Bonaparte.

Borodino

Here Bonaparte and Kutuzov will meet,

Here Bonaparte will suffer his greatest defeat,

Here Kutuzov holds the heights,

With Bagration in the center and Barclay on the right.

Bonaparte orders the attack on Shevardino,

the anchor of Kutuzov's left.

Murat leads and with Davout's support

their cavalry deliver a charge so deft,

the redoubt falls, the bloody start to a bloody battle.

Bonaparte moves, assaulting the center,

ignoring the weakness in Kutuzov's line.

Now with Bagration's flèches he must encounter,

The French artillery begin, a devastating salvo

bombards the Russian regiments,

Davout advances, leading the attack,

to take the flèches and push the Russians back

the Russian retreat, overwhelmed.

Bagration rallies his men and retakes his namesakes,

back and forth the flèches and redoubt sway;

Desperate Bagration calls upon Barclay

to reinforce his position.

The rattle of musketry and the boom of artillery

pervade the field; by smoke the flèches are obscured,

Confused French and Russian infantry meet;

the slaughter is total.

Reeling, the Russian are forced to retreat

to the Raevsky redoubt.

Bonaparte gives the command,

the guns are brought to bear,

the bombardment begins,

the redoubt falls.

At the end of the day,

Bonaparte has not accomplished his plans

the Russian army still stands,

not routed, not annihilated;

Borodino was not Bonaparte's Cannae.

Victorious Kutuzov must retreat,

Moscow is abandon.

Bonaparte approaches and enters the city,

Moscow is captured.

the Armée arrives,

Moscow is pillaged.

Autumn envelopes Russia,

Moscow is burned.

Winter comes, the Russian army returns,

Bonaparte, endangered, is forced to retreat.

On the Smolensk Road, out from the heart of Russia, goes Bonaparte.

All Russia rises against him, led by Winter himself.

Kutuzov gives chase, convincing Bonaparte to hasten his pace.

The cold and the Cossacks and disease harass his column,

reducing the once Grande Armée

to a vestige of its former self.

'Cross the Nieman,

out of the Russian lands goes Bonaparte.

Beaten, Bonaparte returns to France

to regroup and rearm,

Whilst all Europe rises in his wake,

Russia, Austria, Prussia, Sweden, Britain, Spain and Portugal

unite against him.

The Emperor invades the Confederation.

At Leipzig all nations join in battle,

surrounding The Emperor.

Bonaparte holds his ground fighting fiercely,

but cannot break the Allied line.

Their massive numbers withstand his assault

and return the attack. Bonaparte's reign is over,

it is only a matter of time.

In the dead of night, Bonaparte and his army

flee over the Elbe, seeking safe soil.

The Allied Nations purse, trapping The Emperor in France.

His final efforts are for naught,

The Emperor is exiled to Elba.

The Hundred Days,

Bonaparte returns to cheers:

Vive l'empèreur!

A new army is raised,

the Coalition is formed,

Bonaparte is outlawed,

They meet at Waterloo.

Bonaparte begins, launching his attack,

to separate the Anglo-Prussian armies.

British heavy horse counter, driving the French back,

The Allies press on the assault,

shattering Bonaparte's flanks.

Desperate, The Emperor commits his final reserves,

the undefeated Imperial Guard take to the field,

throwing the British back. Wellington responds

with bayonet he assails the once stedfast guard

and breaks their resolve.

Bonaparte's army is gone,

Bonaparte is defeated.

To St Helena as an exile he is sent,

left to forever ponder what could have been...

Vive l'empèreur! Viva l'imperatore!