XXXVIII.

Next morn the absent corps our army join. Joy to our Chieftain for his guidance true! Sir Pack’s not yet hath come--but Marcaloin Shakes with its onward tramp--though from the view Of hawk-eyed Soult ’tis hid. To battle flew His host, assailing Cole in front and rear. Clausel from the Lanz valley poureth too His skirmishers--the mountain-side they clear; Cole’s left is rapid turned--defeat we now may fear.