BOOK THE EIGHTH.
299
This Virgin forth, and gone before her path— 710
Our brethren, vainly valiant, fall beneath them,
Clogging with gore their weapons, or in the flood
Whelm'd like the Egyptian tyrant's impious host,
Mangled and swoln, their blackened carcases
Toss on the tossing billows! We remain, 715
For yet our rulers will pursue the war,
We still remain to perish by the sword,
Soon to appear before the throne of God,
Lost, guilty wretches, hireling murderers,
Uninjur'd, unprovok'd, who dared to risk 720
The life his goodness gave us, on the chance
Of war, and in obedience to our Chiefs,
Durst disobey our God."
Then terror seized
The troops and late repentance: and they thought
The Spirits of the Mothers and their Babes, 725
Famish'd at Rouen, sat on the clouds of night,
Circling the forts, to hail with gloomy joy
The hour of vengeance.
Our brethren, vainly valiant, fall beneath them,
Clogging with gore their weapons, or in the flood
Whelm'd like the Egyptian tyrant's impious host,
Mangled and swoln, their blackened carcases
Toss on the tossing billows! We remain, 715
For yet our rulers will pursue the war,
We still remain to perish by the sword,
Soon to appear before the throne of God,
Lost, guilty wretches, hireling murderers,
Uninjur'd, unprovok'd, who dared to risk 720
The life his goodness gave us, on the chance
Of war, and in obedience to our Chiefs,
Durst disobey our God."
Then terror seized
The troops and late repentance: and they thought
The Spirits of the Mothers and their Babes, 725
Famish'd at Rouen, sat on the clouds of night,
Circling the forts, to hail with gloomy joy
The hour of vengeance.
Nor
