Talavera tongues it as ten o' the night-time: Now come Ruffin's slaughterers surging upward, Backed by bold Vilatte's! From the vale Lapisse, too, Darkly outswells there! Down the vague veiled incline the English fling them, Bended bayonets prodding opponents backward: So the first fierce charge of the ardent Frenchmen England repels there! Having fallen back into the darkness the French presently reascend in yet larger masses. The high square knapsack which every English foot-soldier carries, and his shako, and its tuft, outline themselves against the dim light as the ranks stand awaiting the shock. CHORUS OF RUMOURS Pushing spread they!--shout as they reach the summit!-- Strength and stir new-primed in their plump battalions: Puffs of barbed flame blown on the lines opposing Higher and higher. There those hold them mute, though at speaking distance-- Mute, while clicking flints, and the crash of volleys Whelm the weighted gloom with immense distraction Pending their fire. Fronting heads, helms, brows can each ranksman read there, Epaulettes, hot cheeks, and the shining eyeball, [Called a trice from gloom by the fleeting pan-flash] Pressing them nigher! The French again fall back in disorder into the hollow, and LAPISSE draws off on the right. As the sinking sound of the muskets tells what has happened the English raise a shout. CHORUS OF PITIES Thus the dim nocturnal embroil of conflict Closes with the roar of receding gun-fire. Harness loosened then, and their day-long strenuous Temper unbending, Worn-out lines lie down where they late stood staunchly-- Cloaks around them rolled--by the bivouac embers: There at dawn to stake in the dynasts' death-game All, till the ending! SCENE V THE SAME DUMB SHOW [continued] The morning breaks. There is another murderous attempt to dislodge the English from the hill, the assault being pressed with a determination that excites the admiration of the English themselves. The French are seen descending into the valley, crossing it, and climbing it on the English side under the fire of HILL'S whole division, all to no purpose. In their retreat they leave behind them on the slopes nearly two thousand lying. The day advances to noon, and the air trembles in the intense heat. The combat flags, and is suspended. SPIRIT OF THE PITIES