The lurid plain gleams like a seething hell,
And every rock and tree send forth their bolts of flame.
On! on! they sweep. Uprise the waiting ranks—
Still as the grave—unmoved as granite wall;—
The foe before—the dizzy crags behind—
They fight, the day to win, or like true warriors fall.
Forward they sternly move, then halt to wait.
That raging sea of human life now near;—
"Fire!" rings from right to left,—each musket rings,
As if a thunder peal had struck the startled ear.