Saw to the gale their streaming ensigns play,
Their armour flashing to the beam of day;
Their gen’rous chargers panting, spurn the ground,
Roused by the trumpet’s animating sound;
And heard in air their warlike music float,
The martial pipe, the drum’s inspiring note!
Pale set the sun—the shades of evening fell,
The mournful night-wind rung their funeral knell;
And the same day beheld their warriors dead,
Their sovereign captive, and their glories fled!