Her. Cheer thee yet!
Our knights have spurr’d to rescue. There is now
A whirl, a mingling of all terrible things,
Yet more appalling than the fierce distinctness
Wherewith they moved before! I see tall plumes
All wildly tossing o’er the battle’s tide,
Sway’d by the wrathful motion, and the press
Of desperate men, as cedar boughs by storms.
Many a white streamer there is dyed with blood,
Many a false corslet broken, many a shield