Ay, now the soul of battle is abroad—
It burns upon the air! The joyous winds
Are tossing warrior-plumes, the proud white foam
Of battle’s roaring billows! On my sight
The vision bursts—it maddens! ’tis the flash,
The lightning-shock of lances, and the cloud
Of rushing arrows, and the broad full blaze
Of helmets in the sun! The very steed
With his majestic rider glorying shares
The hour’s stern joy, and waves his floating mane