Rolling, like leaves before the storm, in terror, down the glen.
The night was cold and damp, but we scarcely felt a chill
As we lay, beside our arms, on the bleak and naked hill;
For our hearts were full of fire at the promise of the fray,
Which, we felt, would try our courage on the fast-approaching day,
While the murmur of the enemy, whose thousands hedged us round,
Came fitfully down the freezing wind, in gusts, along the ground.
At last the dawn arrived, and as the sun began
To kiss the summits of the hills, a thousand sparkles ran
Along the cliffs, like fire-flies on a sultry summer night,