XXI.

But daylight woke their hearts to hope and joy; Refreshment needful cheered their bivouac. The column they rejoined without annoy: And there of gladness was, I ween, no lack, Where soldiers hailed their former comrades back. Now Soult by perils prest hath outlet none, Save by Maria’s pass with omens black; And swiftly, near Lizasso, Hill hath won Upon his rear, unchecked by Leo’s burning sun.