XXIV.

But Nial with his sword the bayonet matched, And as he fought upon the rocky verge That bounds the platform, he a firelock snatched From forth a Frenchman’s hands whom he did urge At swordpoint till he slew him. While the surge Of foemen rushed, he kept them all at bay, Till from the forest swift our troops emerge. Their crimson garb with panic struck the fray, And Nial cheered his men to give their rifles play.