XXVI.

Up, up the crags the rapid Frenchman flies, The powerful Briton following in his trail, Till new intrenchment, new redoubts, arise. Once more they stand--once more our troops assail Their abatís, till France again doth quail. And ever Nial flourished in the van His faithful sword that turned the foeman pale, And cheered his rifles on, and foremost ran, Like gallant chief whose port gives courage to each man.