But while the fusing fireballs scorch the sky, Their mining arts the staunch besiegers ply, Delve from the bank of York, and gallery far, Deep subterranean, to the mount of war; Beneath the ditch, thro rocks and fens they go, Scoop the dark chamber plumb beneath the foe; There lodge their tons of powder and retire, Mure the dread passage, wave the fatal fire, Send a swift messenger to warn the foe To seek his safety and the post forgo. A taunting answer comes; he dares defy To spring the mine and all its Ætnas try; When a black miner seized the sulphur'd brand, Shriek'd high for joy, and with untrembling hand Touch'd quick the insidious train; lest here the chief Should change his counsel and afford relief: For hard the general's task, to speak the doom That sends a thousand heroes to the tomb; Heroes who know no wrong; who thoughtless speed Where kings command or where their captains lead, --Burst with the blast, the reeling mountain roars, Heaves, labors, boils, and thro the concave pours His flaming contents high; he chokes the air With all his warriors and their works of war; Guns, bastions, magazines confounded fly, Vault wide their fresh explosions o'er the sky, Encumber each far camp, and plough profound With their rude fragments every neighboring ground. Britain's brave leader, where he sought repose, And deem'd his hill-fort still repulsed the foes, Starts at the astounding earthquake, and descries His chosen veterans whirling down the skies. Their mangled members round his balcon fall, Scorch'd in the flames, and dasht on every wall: Sad field of contemplation! Here, ye great, Kings, priests of God, and ministers of state, Review your system here! behold and scan Your own fair deeds, your benefits to man! You will not leave him to his natural toil, To tame these elements and till the soil. To reap, share, tithe you what his hand has sown, Enjoy his treasures and increase your own, Build up his virtues on the base design'd, The well-toned harmonies of humankind. You choose to check his toil, and band his eyes To all that's honest and to all that's wise; Lure with false fame, false morals and false lore, To barter fields of corn for fields of gore, To take by bands what single thieves would spare, And methodise his murders into war.