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Would’st test again how heavy our just wrath is,
And what the strength of free, true, apish swarthies?
Nay, bring such riff-raff countless as the sand,
Rouse up in arms against me sea and land,
Ay, the whole Universe”
With horror livid
He paused, beyond the royal army vivid
His eye perused the jungle: thither roaming
Thousands of eyeballs focussed in distraction:
Two awful stars were gleaming through the gloaming.
How to pourtray the next two minutes’ action?
Who has not seen, in some autumnal glade,
A sudden eddy smite the fallen leaves
And fleecy shreds that heap the dewy shade:
The dappled mass a dance demoniac weaves:
The dust-cloud with it spins—a shaft of smoke,
Now high in air the eddying spires have leapt,
And now collapsed in yonder branching oak,
And all below is like a meadow swept.
Thus all that royal host of foot and mounted,
A goodly throng, in uniforms uncounted,
Jumbled at once in one wild, motley bustle,
Seething, confused, with many a squeal and tussle,
Flinging away its arms, o’er long boots falling,
In panic flight o’er tips of scabbards sprawling,
On toward the sheltering banyan, jostled, shambled;
Then, houp-la! o’er the pendent vegetation
The whole corps d’armée in a twinkling scrambled,
Leaving below a lifeless desolation,
Save for the various arms the brushwood harbours.
Here flames a casque, there gleam two dreadful sabres;
The ground is black with boots; French horns, cockades,
