Vii monologue — Ismael; an oriental tale. With other poems

Slacken’d each rein, each Scottish brand was bare, The dancing plumage kiss’d the lurid air! Their steeds they urge--hark!--“Scotland” is the cry, The loyal sound the echoing hills reply. Link’d in one body, small, yet firm they go, And charge impetuous on the yielding foe. 80 Dismay’d, confounded at the glorious sight, In vain the Gauls would claim the equal fight; On ev’ry side their comrades strew the plain, And heaps arise of Gallia’s mighty slain: The useless sabre drops,--they turn,--they fly, The serrying cannon follows through the sky. Thus the rhinoceros, on Afric’s shore, Hears from afar the tawny lion’s roar, Cold tremblings o’er his giant members grow, He flies affrighted from a weaker foe. 90