Classic Poem

This is his title of honour. On the day
When, dealing out across the circling snows
Their countless fierce-tongued cannons' iron blows,
The German hordes around his city lay;
When ravaged armies knew not whom to obey,
And half the Imperial Guard in red repose
Slept in the meadows, and no man arose
With any voice save only of dismay:
Then he stood up, and with clear scornful glance
Defied the intruder. Now he lieth dead,
Smitten by keener than the German lance:
Yet by our sons' sons shall it not be said,
“This man alone, when all men's hopes had fled,
Despaired not of the Republic, or of France”?