In such a wild and savage fight as now around me raged.
The foe had ceased their firing, and now plied the deadly steel:
Though all our men were wounded then, no pain they seemed to feel.
No groans escaped from those who fell, but horrid oaths instead,
And scowling looks of hate were on the features of the dead.
The fight was round the standard: though outnumbered ten to one,
We held our ground,—ay, more than that,—we still kept pushing on.[500]
Our men now made a desperate rush to take the flag by storm.
I seized the pole,[501] a blow came down and crushed my outstretched arm.
I felt a sudden thrill of pain, but that soon passed away;