And scatter’d, rushing as a torrent-flood,
Thy pomp of arms and banners;—till the sands
Became a lake of blood—thy noblest blood!—
The plain a mountain of thy slaughter’d bands.
Strength on thy foes, resistless might was shed;
On thy devoted sons—amaze, and shame, and dread.
Are these the conquerors, these the lords of fight,
The warrior men, the invincible, the famed,
Who shook the earth with terror and dismay,
Whose spoils were empires?—They that in their might