our, and fear,
And the jest that died in the jester's ear,
And preparation, noble to see,
Of all-accepting mortality;
Tranquil Necessity gracing Force;
And the trumpets danc'd with the stirring horse;
And lordly voices, here and there,
Call'd to war through the gentle air;
When suddenly, with its voice of doom,
Spoke the cannon 'twixt glare and gloom,
Making wider the dreadful room:
On the faces of nations round
Fell the shadow of that sound.

Death for death! The storm begins;
Rush the drums in a torrent of dins;
Crash the muskets, gash the swords;
Shoes grow red in a thousand fords;
Now for the flint, and the cartridge bite;
Darkly gathers the breath of the fight,
Salt to the palate and stinging to sight;
Muskets are pointed they scarce know where,
No matter: Murder is cluttering there.
Reel the hollows: close up! close up!
Death feeds thick, and his food is his cup.
Down go bodies, snap burst eyes;
Trod on the ground are tender cries;
Brains are dash'd against plashing ears;
Hah! no time has battle for tears;
Cursing helps better--cursing, that goes
Slipping through friends' blood, athirst for foes'.
What have soldiers with tears to do?--
We, who this mad-house must now go through,
This twenty-fold Bedlam, let loose with knives--
To murder, and stab, and grow liquid with lives--
Gasping, staring, treading red mud,
Till the drunkenness' self makes us steady of blood?

[Illustration:

DOWN GO BODIES--SNAP BURST EYES--
TROD ON THE GROUND ARE TENDER CRIES.
_Canto_ II. _p. 8._]

[Oh! shrink not thou, reader! Thy part's in it too;
Has not thy praise made the thing they go through
Shocking to read of, but noble to do?]

No time to be "breather of thoughtful breath"
Has the giver and taker of dreadful death.
See where comes the horse-tempest again,
Visible earthquake, bloody of mane!
Part are upon us, with edges of pain;
Part burst, riderless, over the plain,
Crashing their spurs, and twice slaying the slain