And on the foremost crest our men have now
Full many a rock’s Aiantine volume rolled;
Prepared to hurl them from the mountain-brow,
Their powerful hands this rude artillery hold,
Should thirst of vengeance make the assailants hold.
But men who Death had braved in every form
Of War’s destruction known to them of old,
Before this unfamiliar mountain-storm
Have quailed, and our’s the height all strewn with corses warm.
IV.