Lay quivering round while fierce the foemen yell.
Dismounted gun, and shattered carriage, chart,
Line, linstock, bullet, corse, were tossed in every part.
XXIII.
“Rey’s petulant to-day,” quoth Nial. Straight
A huge artillery waggon by their side,
That fed our batteries, six strong horses’ freight,
Struck by a shell, up-bounding scattered wide
War’s provender. The missile dumb doth bide—
A minute’s pause of horrible suspense,