They were still in force before us, vowing never more to yield.
One by one our scouts came in—some with faces of dismay —
Others smiling at the promise of another glorious fray;
But the tidings that they brought only fired us, and we stood,
Like the old Norweyan Vikings, anxious for the feast of blood.
When our wounded were in motion, for our general, like a man
And a father, sent them back before the onward march began —
When we saw the laden wagons, with the sad, disheartened train,
Toward Point Isabel in silence slowly roll along the plain —
We advanced and took our places, drawing a determined breath,