All Hell seemed bursting on us, as the yelling legions came--
The cannon's tongues of quick red fire licked all the hills aflame!
Mad whistling shell, wild sneering shot, with devilish glee went
past,
Like fiendish feet and laughter hurrying down the battle-blast;
And through the air, and round the hills, there ran a wrack sublime
As though Eternity were crashing on the shores of Time.
On bayonets and swords the smile of conscious victory shone,
As down to death we dashed the Rebels plucking at our Throne.
On, on they came with face of flame, and storm of shot and shell--
Up! up! like heaven-sealers, and we hurled them back to Hell.
Like the old sea, white-lipped with rage, they dash and foam despair
On ranks of rock, ah! what a prize for the wrecker death was there!
But as 'twere River Pleasaunce, did our fellows take that flood,
A royal throbbing in the pulse that beat voluptuous blood:
The Guards went down to the fight in gray that's growing gory red--
See! save them, they're surrounded! leap your ramparts of the dead,
And back the desperate battle, for there is but one short stride
Between the Russ and victory! One more tug, you true and tried--
The Red-Caps crest the hill! with bloody spur, ride, Bosquet, ride!
Down like a flood from Etna foams their valour's burning tide.
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