To wield them in their terrible array,—
The army, like a lion from his den,
Marched forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay,—
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.
III.
History can only take things in the gross;
But could we know them in detail, perchance