Loud thunder, and difgorg'd their fulphurous fire. Then banners wav'd, and arms were mix'd with arms; Then javelins anfwer'd javelins as they fled,
For both fled hiffing death: With adverse edge
The crooked faulchions met; and hideous noise
From clashing shields, through the long ranks of war,
Clang'd horrible.
A thousand iron storms
Roar diverse and in harsh confufion drown
The trumpet's filver found. O rude effort
Of harmony! not all the frozen ftores
Of the cold North, when pour'd in rattling hail,
Lash with fuch madness the Norwegian plains,
Or fo torment the ear. Scarce founds fo far
The direful fragor, when fome fouthern blast
Tears from the Alps a ridge of knotty oaks
Deep fang'd, and ancient tenants of the rock:
The maffy fragment, many a rood in length,
With hideous crash, rolls down the rugged cliff
Refiflefs, plunging in the fubject lake
Como, or Lugaine; th' afflicted waters roar,
And various thunder all the valley fills,
Such was the noife of war: the troubled air
Complains aloud, and propagates the din
To neighbouring regions; rocks and lofty hills
Beat the impetuous echoes round the sky.
Uproar, revenge, and rage, and hate, appear
In all their murderous forms; and flame and blood
And sweat and duft array the broad campaign
In horror hafty feet, and fparkling eyes,
And all the favage paffions of the foul,
Engage in the warm business of the day.
Here mingling hands, but with no friendly gripe,
Join in the fight; and breasts in close embrace
But mortal as the iron arms of death.
Here words auflere, of perilous command,
And valour swift t' obey; bold feats of arms
Dreadful to fee, and glorious to relate,
Shine through the field with more furprifing brightness
Than glittering helms or fpears. What loud applause
(Beft meed of warlike toil) what manly fhouts,
And yells unmanly through the battle ring!
And fudden wrath dies into endless fame.
Long did the fate of war hang dubious. Here Stood the more numerous Turk, the valiant Pole Fought here; more dreadful, though with lesser wings.
But what the Dahets or the coward foul
Of a Cydonian, what the fearful crowds
Of bafe Cilicians 'fcaping from the flaughter,
Of Parthian beafts, with all their racing riders,
What could they mean against th' intrepid breast
Of the pursuing foe? Th' impetuous Poles
Ruth here, and here the Lithuanian horfe
Drive down upon them like a double bolt
Of kindled thunder raging through the sky
On founding wheels; or as fome mighty flood
Rolls his two torrents down a dreadful steep
Precipitant, and bears along the ftream
Rocks, woods, and trees, with all the grazing herd, And tumbles lofty forefts headlong to the plain.
The bold Boruffian smoking from afar Moves like a tempeft in a dufky cloud, And imitates th' artillery of heaven,
The lightning and the roar.
What showers of mortal hail, what flaky fires
Burft from the darkness! while their cohorts firm
Met the like thunder, and an equal storm,
From hoftile troops, but with a braver mind.
Undaunted bofoms tempt the edge of war,.
And rush on the sharp point; while baleful mischiefs,
Deaths, and bright dangers flew acrofs the field
Thick and continual, and a thousand fouls
Fled murmuring through their wounds. I ftood aloof, For 'twas unfafe to come within the wind
Of Ruffian banners, when with whizzing found,
Eager of glory, and profufe of life,
They bore down fearless on the charging foes,
And drove them backward. Then the Turkish moons
Wander'd in difarray. A dark eclipse
Hung on the filver crefcent, boding night,
Long night, to all her fons: at length disrob'd
The ftandards fell: the barbarous enfigns torn
Fled with the wind, the sport of angry heaven:
And a large cloud of infantry and horse
Scattering in wild diforder, fpread the plain.
Not noife, nor number, nor the brawny limb,
Nor high-built fize prevails: 'Tis courage fights,
VOL. LVI.
courage conquers. So whole forefts fall (A fpacious ruin) by one fingle axe,
And steel well-fharpned: fo a generous pair
Of young-wing'd eaglets fright a thousand doves.
Vaft was the flaughter, and the flowery green
Drank deep of flowing crimson. Veteran bands
Here made their laft campaign. Here haughty chiefs
Stretch'd on the bed of purple honour lie
Supine, nor dream of battle's hard event,
Opprefs'd with iron flumbers, and long night.
Their ghosts indignant to the nether world
Fled, but attended well: for at their fide
Some faithful Janizaries ftrew'd the field,
Fall'n in juft ranks or wedges, lunes or fquares,
Firm as they stood; to the Warfovian troops,
A nobler toil, and triumph worth their fight.
But the broad fabre and keen poll-axe flew
With speedy terror through the feebler herd,
And made rude havock and irregular spoil
Amongst the vulgar bands that own'd the name
Of Mahomet. The wild Arabians fled
In swift affright a thousand different ways [mountains Through brakes and thorns, and climb'd the craggy Bellowing; yet hafty fate o'ertook the cry,
And Polish hunters clave the timorous deer.
Thus the dire profpect diftant fill'd my foul
With awe; till the last relicks of the war,
The thin Edonians, flying had disclos'd
The ghaftly plain: I took a nearer view,
Unfeemly to the fight, nor to the smell
Grateful. What loads of mangled flesh and limbs
(A difmal carnage!) bath'd in reeking gore
Lay weltering on the ground; while flitting life
Convuls'd the nerves ftill fhivering, nor had loft
All taste of pain! Here an old Thracian lies,
Deform'd with years and fears, and groans aloud
Torn with fresh wounds; but inward vitals firm
Forbid the foul's remove, and chain it down
By the hard laws of nature, to fustain
Long torment: his wild eye-balls roll: his teeth,
Gnafhing with anguifh, chide his lingering fate.
Emblazon'd armour spoke his high command
Amongst the neighbouring dead; they round their lord
Lay proftrate; fome in flight ignobly flain,
Some to the skies their faces upwards turn'd
Still brave, and proud to die fo near their prince.
I mov'd not far, and lo, at manly length
Two beauteous youths of richest Ott❜man blood
Extended on the field: in friendship join'd,
Nor fate divides them: hardy warriors both;
Both faithful; drown'd in showers of darts they fell,
Each with his shield spread o'er his lover's heart,
In vain: for on thofe orbs of friendly brass
Stood groves of javelins; fome, alas, too deep
Were planted there, and through their lovely bofoms
Made painful avenues for cruel death.
dear native land, forgive the tear
I dropt on their wan cheeks, when strong compaffion
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