Still roars the thunder-storm--Day wears the gloom Of Night’s black canopy, and wears it well. That pall o’erspreads more horrors than the tomb; Beneath its folds are done the deeds of Hell! And chiefs who seek the demon strife to quell Are slaughtered by their men. Drunk volunteers, Mad soldiers, vile camp-followers, knaves who swell The array of War, and know nor shame nor fears, A plundering pathway hew thro’ havoc, blood, and tears. XXXIX. Still roars the volleying thunder. Dost not feel Appalled, thou villain, by that lightning-flash, Nor dream when brandishing thy dripping steel, That crimes like thine the Eternal arm will lash? Doth not that thunder-clap thine eye abash? For not more fell was Attila than thou; Not Alaric’s self, whose Visigothic clash Made Spain and Rome, beneath Honorius, bow, Led monsters to the assault of much more shameless brow. XL. Such are War’s lessons--such the hideous brood Spawned by the Passions in the hour of strife; Such the dire Madness fed by scent of blood, Where plunder tempts and sullying gold is rife, Wine fires each appetite and whets the knife; Dissolved the bands of Discipline, the mould Of duty broke, restored barbarian life; Honour and Valour both to Rapine sold. Look here, Ambition, here: thy handiwork behold! HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES TO CANTO VI. The incidents of the first part of this Canto are derived in common from Napier, Jones, and Gleig. The tearing down of the Tricolor, which I have assigned to Nial, must be historically attributed to the real performer of this bold exploit. “The French colours on the cavalier were torn away by Lieutenant Gethin of the eleventh regiment.”--Napier, _Hist._ book xxii. chap. 2.