University of Virginia Library

XII.

His troop lay stretch'd upon the mountain heath
Faint with the parching travel of the day.
'T was midnight, hill and vale were hush'd as death.
Anon, a rocket shot a yellow ray,
And died; another and another rose.
The drums beat out; no moment for repose.
A fiery circle ran round Montjuif's height;
The city was a blaze of lurid light.
Up sprang Sebastian, vaulted on his steed,
Spoke the few words that touch the man of Spain,
Then down the mountain rush'd with arrowy speed.
Clear as the morn, the flashings of th'assault
Show'd on the plain the red battalions squared,
The squadrons mounted, that the night's grim vault
Had hidden, till the blaze upon them glared
Like the grim entrails of a mighty mine.
From Montjuif thunder'd still the incessant din,
The shot from loop and bastion shower'd like hail;
Sebastian gave the spur, he pass'd the vale,
He found the English warriors on its brow,
In their close, iron line; with steady gaze
Eyeing the fire, that round them pour'd a glow
Fierce as a furnace, waiting but the word,
To spring upon the battlements;—none stirr'd,
No voice was heard;—at last the word was given;
A shout like thunder echoed England's name!
The Frenchman from the wall, like dust, was driven;
Then sank the clash, the thunder, and the flame.