Bastion and parapet in fragments hurled—
Titanic ruins strewn along the shore—
While nearer now the culverin smoke is curled,
And deadly grapeshot paves the path to a new world.
XXVIII.
From every quarter sweeps an iron shower—
Cannon and musketry in front and rear—
From nearest horn and distant fort and tower,
From rampart, bastion, curtain, cavalier.
Up, up the breach they climb and laugh at fear!