May and Inge, with all their men, for an instant filled the scene —
Rushing like an autumn tempest through the chapparal, down the glen,
May, half-hidden by streaming hair, with gallant Inge led on the men,
Loud hurraing: but a crash! and Inge clutched wildly at his rein —
And twice a score of neighing steeds swept riderless along the plain.
All in vain: another instant! May was riding o’er the wall,
Waving on his fiery followers through the tangled chapparal;
Wheeling in a moment, backward, with the same resistless force
Came the hero, like a giant, on his gaunt and sinewy horse; —
As our infantry came up, battling boldly by his gun,