That spring from demon-haunts and skulk or loom
To terror-stricken fancy of weak souls.
But none have named the scourge of Singing Death,
The dread reality which out of hell
Comes forth as often as the blood-lust burns;
Foulness and fury volcanize its breath
As, ravening for flesh insatiate, fell
It swoops, devours and bloodier returns.
An army gathers flushed with high resolve
And there is martial music and display