Yet onward the French column densely moved, Our careful hewn intrenchments filling fast. Down went banquette and parapet; and proved Fascine and gabion feeble in the blast. Soon, as o’er level ground, the trench they passed While fierce artillery from the rampart roared. Incessant flashes momentary cast Made tenfold darkness when their stream was poured, And shells in beauteous curves of light through æther soared. XXIV. But saw great Arthur from the Chofre hills, And while Graham hurled against the rampart’s height A fierce reply which all the welkin fills, Sent our bold columns rapid to the fight. Morton with joy, and Nial with delight, The summons heard, and dashing with their men Plunged through the fitful blazing gloom of night. Hot was the fire of skirmishers, which then Maintained on either side bewildered Lyncean ken. XXV. For soon so mixed amid the pitchy gloom Were friend and foe, save when the cannon flashed To send grim death rimbombing from its womb, That friend smote friend, and indiscriminate dashed They on, by that dread peril unabashed. Hundreds were in the trenches headlong flung, And bayonets high o’er head and under clashed. So desperate to their ground the assailants clung, It seemed as Victory long i’ th’ balance doubtful hung. XXVI. And, lo, where ’mid the carnage dire and wide, Rise rapid fireballs from the citadel, Whose lurid glare is, sure, to Hell allied, With strong blue light the darkness to dispel; And some on the fascines around them fell, Which fiercely burnt, diffusing terror new For but an instant. Each his foe can tell, And musketry now blazes full in view, Till heaps of corses soon both mound and trenches strew. XXVII. By that dread blaze upon the topmost height A young French chieftain coped with Morton’s sword; Their clashing blades upon the brow of night Threw clustering sparkles swift as Brontes poured ’Gainst Steropes whilst Ætna’s forges roared; And round and round they leapt to every stroke, And with good will each point of fence explored. But Morton’s firmer hand his guard soon broke; The Gaulish chief disarmed the word “Surrender” spoke. XXVIII. And Nial coped with yet a hardier chief, Whose practised valour and whose sinewy arm Gave little hope, I ween, of victory brief, Yet joy inspired to Nial, not alarm. Terrific was their sword play, like the charm Of deadly basilisk to lure the eye; And many a pass was parried without harm, And many a sweep and many a thrust put by, Till Nial’s foe at last i’ th’ trench doth silent lie. XXIX.