As madden’d steeds and whirling blades
Beat down the cursed crew.
“Every foe has fled, and quicker
Than he came, and in the glitter
Of half-burned sheds we gather
By the dark pool’s gloomy side;
“And we pledge the panting horses,
That are standing ’midst the corpses
Of the white-ribbed, grinning devils
That have caused our midnight ride.”