How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain—such names will be
A watchword till the Future shall be free.
VI.
The night was dark, and the thick mist allowed
Nought to be seen save the artillery's flame,
Which arched the horizon like a fiery cloud,
And in the Danube's waters shone the same—[412]
A mirrored Hell! the volleying roar, and loud