XXXVIII.

Day breaks in light and glory--’tis the hour Of conflict and of fate--the war-note calls-- Despair hath lent a stern, delirious power To the brave few that guard the rampart walls. Far over Marmora’s waves th’ artillery’s peal Proclaims an empire’s doom in every note; Tambour and trumpet swell the clash of steel, Round spire and dome the clouds of battle float; From camp and wave rush on the Crescent’s host, And the Seven Towers[27] are scaled, and all is won and lost.