ROLL OF THE KETTLEDRUM 



Burst, while his fingers reclosed on the haft, 

 Jarring concussion and earth-shaking din. 

 Horse 'counter'd horse, and I reel'd, but he 

 laugh't, 

 Down went his man, cloven clean to the 

 chin ! 



Wedged in the midst of that struggling mass, 

 After the first shock, where each his foe 

 singled, 

 Little was seen save a dazzle, like glass 

 In the sun, with grey smoke and black dust 

 intermingled. 



Here and there redden'd a pistol shot, flashing 

 Through the red sparkle of steel upon steel ! 



Redder the spark seem'd, and louder the 

 clashing. 

 Struck from the helm by the iron-shod heel ! 



Overfallen riders, like wither'd leaves strewing 

 Uplands in autumn, we sunder'd their ranks ; 



Steeds rearing and plunging, men hacking 



and hewing, 



Fierce grinding of sword-blades, sharp 



goading of flanks. 

 I S3 



