“A human Hydra issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way....
The night was dark, and the thick mist allowed
Nought to be seen save the artillery’s flame,
Which arched the horizon like a fiery cloud,
And in the Danube’s waters shone the same—
A mirrored Hell! The volleying roar, and loud
Long booming of each peal on peal, o’ercame
The ear far more than thunder, for Heaven’s flashes
Spare or smite rarely—Man’s make millions ashes!”