Now half-choked with dust and powder, Fiercely throbs each bursting vein: Hark! the din of arms grows louder, Ah! what heaps of heroes slain! See, from flank to flank wide flashing, How each volley rends the gloom; Hear the trumpet; ah! what clashing, Man and horse now meet their doom; Bravely done! each gallant soldier Well sustained this heavy fire; Alexander ne'er was bolder; Now by regiments retire. See, our second line moves on us, Ope your columns, give them way, Heaven perhaps may smile upon us, These may yet regain the day. Now our second line engaging, Charging close, spreads carnage round, Fierce revenge and fury raging, Angry heroes bite the ground. The souls of brave men here expiring Call for vengeance e'en in death, Frowning still, the dead, the dying, Threaten with their latest breath. To the left obliquely flying, Oh! be ready, level well, Who could think of e'er retiring, See, my lads, those volleys tell. Ah! by heavens, our dragoons flying, How the squadrons fill the plain! Check them, boys, ye fear not dying, Sell your lives, nor fall in vain. Now our left flank they are turning; Carnage is but just begun; Desperate now, 'tis useless mourning, Farewell, friends, adieu the sun! Fix'd to die, we scorn retreating, To the shock our breasts oppose, Hark! the shout, the signal beating, See, with bayonets they close: Front rank charge! the rear make ready! Forward, march--reserve your fire! Now present, fire brisk, be steady, March, march, see their lines retire! On the left, our light troops dashing, Now our dragoons charge the rear, Shout! huzza! what glorious slashing, They run, they run, hence banish fear! Now the toil and danger's over, Dress alike the wounded brave, Hope again inspires the lover, Old and young forget the grave; Seize the canteen, poise it higher, Rest to each brave soul that fell! Death for this is ne'er the nigher, Welcome mirth, and fear farewell. R. H. THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH [June 28, 1778] Four-and-eighty years are o'er me; great-grandchildren sit before me; These my locks are white and scanty, and my limbs are weak and worn; Yet I've been where cannon roaring, firelocks rattling, blood outpouring, Stirred the souls of patriot soldiers, on the tide of battle borne; Where they told me I was bolder far than many a comrade older, Though a stripling at that fight for the right.