XXVII.

On, on they rush, their line with dead bestrewing, While Mont ’Orgullo and Santelmo pour Both shot and shell, the living brave renewing The venturous rank where heroes fall before. Up, up the breach they climb, swift mounting o’er Bastion and parapet in fragments hurled-- Titanic ruins strewn along the shore-- While nearer now the culverin smoke is curled, And deadly grapeshot paves the path to a new world.