XI.
On came the whirlwind—like the last
But fiercest sweep of tempest blast—
On came the whirlwind—steel-gleams broke
Like lightning through the rolling smoke,
The war was waked anew,
Three hundred cannon-mouths roar’d loud,
And from their throats, with flash and cloud,
Their showers of iron threw.
Beneath their fire, in full career,
Rush’d on the ponderous cuirassier,
The lancer couch’d his ruthless spear,
And hurrying as to havock near,
The Cohorts’ eagles flew.
In one dark torrent broad and strong,
The advancing onset roll’d along,
Forth harbinger’d by fierce acclaim,
That, from the shroud of smoke and flame,
Peal’d wildly the imperial name.