Was broken, up and down whose steeps

befell

Alternate victory and defeat; and there

The combatants with rage most horrible Strove, and their eyes started with cracking stare,

And impotent their tongues they lolled into the air,

XVII.

Flaccid and foamy, like a mad dog's hang

ing.

Want, and Moon-madness, and the pest's

swift Bane,

When its shafts smite while yet its bow is twanging,

Have each their mark and sign, some ghastly stain;

And this was thine, O War! of hate and pain

Thou loathed slave. I saw all shapes of

death,

And ministered to many, o'er the plain

While carnage in the sunbeam's warmth did

seethe,

Till twilight o'er the east wove her serenest wreath.

XVIII.

The few who yet survived, resolute and firm, Around me fought. At the decline of day, Winding above the mountain's snowy term, New banners shone: they quivered in the ray

Of the sun's unseen orbere night the

array

Of fresh troops hemmed us in of those

brave bands

I soon survived alone - and now I lay Vanquished and faint, the grasp of bloody

hands

I felt, and saw on high the glare of falling

brands,

XIX.

When on my foes a sudden terror came,

And they fled, scattering.

reinless speed

Lo! with

Cythna Putting the Army to Flight.

"A black Tartarian horse of giant frameOn which, like to an angel, robed in white, Sate one waving a sword."