Flamed the canister-fire from the gunners of Hays and of Gibbon.
Blending, the sheeted blaze of the heavily-volleying muskets
Suddenly fringed the front, from the regiments crouching expectant:
Almost with awe they awaited the furious onset of foemen
Tried in the five-fold fire, and from hell undaunted emerging.
Waited not long: with the crash of answering volley for volley,
Raising the yell of the charge, wild as the howl of the wolf-pack,
Surged up out of the smoke the first of the lean tanned faces,
Teeth half-bared as in joy, and the sunken eyes savagely gleaming
Under the old gray brims and the slant of the battered visors.