XXIX.

For pistol-shot might reach the hastening throng, Who through the horrid chasm defenceless crowd. The wounded men on branches borne along Were flung to earth--in vain their voices loud Implored for aid, all trampled in the shroud That wrapt them blood-besmeared. Confusion dire Possest the ranks. The bravest horsemen cowed Charged up the pass to escape the avenger’s ire; The footman ’gainst the hussar was forced to turn his fire.