By torch and trumpet fast array’d,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh’d,
To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rush’d the steed, to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash’d the red artillery.
But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden’s hills of stainèd snow,