The troops, drawn up in beautiful array,
O'er heathy plains pursue the ready way.
}
{ Repeated peals of shouts are heard around;
{ The neighing coursers answer to the sound,
{ And shake with horny hoofs the solid ground.
A greenwood shade, for long religion known,
Stands by the streams that wash the Tuscan town,
Incompassed round with gloomy hills above,
Which add a holy horror to the grove.