And fiery lances whirr'd around,
Revenge, at least, undying—
Above the blood-red clay we bound—
Hurrah! the burghers break their ground,
Through vale and woodland flying!
Back to the camp, behold us throng,
Flags stream, and bugles play—
Woman and child with choral song,
And men, with dance and wine, prolong
The warrior's holyday.