XI.

Now mustering yet disordered forth they come, For spreads the alarm: _Alerte! alerte!_’s the cry. The hurrying leaders urge them--rolls the drum, And to San Marcial’s thunderous guns reply Their cannon from the Grand Monarque on high. But all too late the movement--see, their camp Beneath Andaye is carried manfully At glittering point of bayonet. Nought can damp The ardour of our men, or check their onward tramp.