Let your good rifles speak—ah, hark! they come!”
X.
Flew from its massive hinge the shattered door,
The splintered fragments strewed the marble floor;
Wild through the breach like flashing waves they rolled,
All plumed and armed, and glittering o’er with gold;
Up to the aim rose Gilbert’s rifles all,
Rung the report and sped the deadly ball.
Th’ exulting shout that swelled the foeman’s breath,
Is quenched in yells of anguish and of death—