Sir, they say That he was shot some hour, or half, ago.-- With dandyism raised to godlike pitch He stalked the deck in all his jewellery, And so was hit. MAGENDIE Then Fortune shows her face! We have scotched England in dispatching him. [He watches.] Yes! He commands no more; and Lucas, joying, Has taken steps to board. Look, spars are laid, And his best men are mounting at his heels. VILLENEUVE Ah, God--he is too late! Whence came the hurl Of heavy grape? The smoke prevents my seeing But at brief whiles.--The boarding band has fallen, Fallen almost to a man.--'Twas well assayed! MAGENDIE That's from their “Temeraire,” whose vicious broadside Has cleared poor Lucas' decks. VILLENEUVE And Lucas, too. I see him no more there. His red planks show Three hundred dead if one. Now for ourselves! [Four of the English three-deckers have gradually closed round the “Bucentaure,” whose bowsprit still sticks fast in the gallery of the “Santisima Trinidad.” A broadside comes from one of the English, resulting in worse havoc on the “Bucentaure.” The main and mizzen masts of the latter fall, and the boats are beaten to pieces. A raking fire of musketry follows from the attacking ships, to which the “Bucentaure” heroically continues still to keep up a reply. CAPTAIN MAGENDIE falls wounded. His place is taken by LIEUTENANT DAUDIGNON.] VILLENEUVE Now that the fume has lessened, code my biddance Upon our only mast, and tell the van At once to wear, and come into the fire. [Aside] If it be true that, as HE sneers, success Demands of me but cool audacity, To-day shall leave him nothing to desire! [Musketry continues. DAUDIGNON falls. He is removed, his post being taken by LIEUTENANT FOURNIER. Another crash comes, and the deck is suddenly encumbered with rigging.] FOURNIER There goes our foremast! How for signalling now? VILLENEUVE To try that longer, Fournier, is in vain Upon this haggard, scorched, and ravaged hulk, Her decks all reeking with such gory shows, Her starboard side in rents, her stern nigh gone! How does she keep afloat?-- “Bucentaure,” O lucky good old ship! My part in you is played. Ay--I must go; I must tempt Fate elsewhere,--if but a boat Can bear me through this wreckage to the van. FOURNIER Our boats are stove in, or as full of holes As the cook's skimmer, from their cursed balls! [Musketry. VILLENEUVE'S Head-of-Staff, DE PRIGNY, falls wounded, and many additional men. VILLENEUVE glances troublously from ship to ship of his fleet.] VILLENEUVE How hideous are the waves, so pure this dawn!-- Red-frothed; and friends and foes all mixed therein.-- Can we in some way hail the “Trinidad” And get a boat from her? [They attempt to distract the attention of the “Santisima Trinidad” by shouting.]