XXII.

And as they spoke the batteries raised their voice, From crowned La Mota raining shot and shell, Drove through the ranks, and made the Gaul rejoice With many a horrid gap that, ah, could well Its tale of dire disaster silent tell! For fragments strewn of gunner and his art Lay quivering round while fierce the foemen yell. Dismounted gun, and shattered carriage, chart, Line, linstock, bullet, corse, were tossed in every part.