That sketched old scenes—like pictures to their eyes:—
The wide war-plain, with banners glowing bright,
And bayonets to the farthest stretch of sight;
The pause, more dreadful than the peal to come
From volleys blazing at the beat of drum—
Till all the field of thundering lines became
Two level and confronted sheets of flame.
Then to the charge, when Marlbro’s hot pursuit
Trode France’s gilded lilies underfoot;
He came and kindled—and with martial lung