The poem forms a short story. On August 23, 1809, the French Army under the leadership of then-Emperor Napoleon engaged in a battle at the walled city of Ratisbon. A breach in the walls led to three advances into the city, all of which were defeated. On a third advance, the Marshall Lannes (a general office, just below Napoleon himself) made way to lead a fourth advance through the breach. Lannes is reported to have said to troops, understandably reluctant to charge through a breach which had seen three defeats in short order, “I will let you see that I was a grenadier before I was a marshal and still am one.” Lannes’ men held him back, and the troops rallied for a fourth, successful assault. During the battle, Napoleon suffered a rare, minor injury to his foot.

The poem describes the scene of a young soldier returning to make a report of a successful taking of the city. The young man having given the news falls down dead.

The first stanza sets the scene:

I

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: 
A mile or so away,

On a little mound, Napoleon 
Stood on our storming-day; 
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 
Legs wide, arms locked behind, 
As if to balance the prone brow 
Oppressive with its mind. 

The first words of this poem are critical to understand the whole. If you miss those words, you miss what is taking place. If we drop those words, the poet would be writing from the objective, third person narrator; the one who truly knows what is going on with every character. We the reader, are watching the whole scene from a distance.

But the first words subtly shift the meaning in two important ways. First, our perspective on the event does not come from a third person objective narrator, but it comes from an eyewitness. Second, we are not at home with a book of poetry in our hand sipping tea and admiring Browning’s skill.

If we are going to follow Browning, we must be present at the scene of the conquest of Ratisbon. First, we are speaking with a witness to the event:

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: 

The narrator is a mere of the French army. You are not, the use of “you” and “we” create two distinct groups. This is why you were not present at the events. 

Second, you are not far from the scene of the battle, but you were not directly affected, the narrator has to remind you of the battle. If you home had been burnt, he probably would not be talking with you.

Third, you are near the battle, 

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: 
A mile or so away,

This then leads to a question: Why is the soldier telling you the story? Is he proud, amused, incredulous, angry? 

Whatever the case, you only truly understand this poem if you see it as a conversation with a French soldier lately at the battle. You are brought into this piece of gossip.

The narrator then begins to set the scene. It centers upon Napoleon (as everything in Napoleon’s world did). 

On a little mound, Napoleon 
Stood on our storming-day; 
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 
Legs wide, arms locked behind, 
As if to balance the prone brow 
Oppressive with its mind. 

The narrator here begins to let us into how he sees the event: Napoleon stands “on a little mound.” Here is the Emperor, the terror Europe, the most powerful man in the world, standing on a “little mound.”  The prosaic point that Napoleon stood on an elevation to get a sight of the whole has been described in charged terms: “little mound” That is biting. 

Napoleon is also not present at the battle: he is standing while the soldiers are fighting and dying (as we will learn)

Napoleon 
Stood on our storming-day; 

Although not a direct allusion, this reminds me of a scene from the Bible:

2 Samuel 11:1 (ESV) 

In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel. And they ravaged the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem. 

The great general is apart from his troops. But at least Napoleon is at the scene of the battle.

Notice also that you are drawn back into the scene. You know what Napoleon looks like. You are being made a confidant. 

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 

And finally Napoleon is a distress, two forces are opposed in him and he struggles to balance all:

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 
Legs wide, arms locked behind, 
As if to balance the prone brow 
Oppressive with its mind. 

This scene sets up the tentative nature of Napoleon’s position. The emperor on a little mound is reduced to a mere observer. This brings us to the next stanza