Perceiving then no more the commandant Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which had Quite disappeared--the gods know how! (I can't Account for everything which may look bad In history; but we at least may grant It was not marvellous that a mere lad, In search of Glory, should look on before, Nor care a pinch of snuff about his corps:)--[ic] XXXII. Perceiving nor commander nor commanded, And left at large, like a young heir, to make His way to--where he knew not--single handed; As travellers follow over bog and brake An "ignis fatuus;" or as sailors stranded Unto the nearest hut themselves betake; So Juan, following Honour and his nose, Rushed where the thickest fire announced most foes.[428] XXXIII. He knew not where he was, nor greatly cared, For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins Filled as with lightning--for his spirit shared The hour, as is the case with lively brains; And where the hottest fire was seen and heard, And the loud cannon pealed his hoarsest strains, He rushed, while earth and air were sadly shaken By thy humane discovery, Friar Bacon![id][429] XXXIV. And as he rushed along, it came to pass he Fell in with what was late the second column, Under the orders of the General Lascy, But now reduced, as is a bulky volume Into an elegant extract (much less massy) Of heroism, and took his place with solemn Air 'midst the rest, who kept their valiant faces And levelled weapons still against the Glacis.[ie] XXXV. Just at this crisis up came Johnson too, Who had "retreated," as the phrase is when Men run away much rather than go through Destruction's jaws into the Devil's den; But Johnson was a clever fellow, who Knew when and how "to cut and come again," And never ran away, except when running Was nothing but a valorous kind of cunning. XXXVI. And so, when all his corps were dead or dying, Except Don Juan, a mere novice, whose More virgin valour never dreamt of flying, From ignorance of danger, which indues Its votaries, like Innocence relying On its own strength, with careless nerves and thews,-- Johnson retired a little, just to rally Those who catch cold in "shadows of Death's valley." XXXVII. And there, a little sheltered from the shot, Which rained from bastion, battery, parapet, Rampart, wall, casement, house--for there was not In this extensive city, sore beset By Christian soldiery, a single spot Which did not combat like the Devil, as yet,-- He found a number of Chasseurs, all scattered By the resistance of the chase they battered. XXXVIII.