XI.

They are flying! they are flying! horse and foot, and bold dragoon, In one refluent mass are mingled, 'neath the slowly waning moon; And louder still the cry is heard, as borne upon the blast, The shouts of the pursuing host are rising full and fast: "On, on unto the river, 'tis our only chance for life! We needs must reach the gunboats, or we perish in the strife!"