The Father ceas'd.
From ev'ry mouth burst forth — as if  soul,
voice, through all the army reign'd — "We go!"
Inspir'd thus by the Priest's heroic charge,
Each seem'd to press to be the  victim;
Their souls on fire, were eager to depart
The earthly sphere, and seise on their immortal crowns.
Thus rapt, the soldiers pass; and through the gates,
Like mists exhaling from the earth's moist bosom,
Spread on the surface of the hostile plain.
The gates shut close their wide-extended jaws,
— Shut close for ever, on the valiant youths,
Whose feet now leave them — to return no more:
But they, by  hopes than life inspir'd,
March on; whilst Night her curtain closer draws
To hide their progress from the watchful foe.
In vain the night her sable curtain draws,
And bids the stars keep hoodwink'd in their course;
For faithless Echo to the  guard
Betray'd the distant sound of pacing steps.
From guard to guard the hasty signals fly,
And shoot like meteors through the dark expanse.
The Infidels, alarm'd, seem all in motion,
Whilst the faint quiv'ring lights, that lately serv'd
To guide the hunters in their dang'rous chace,
Now blaze and multiply, till all the camp
A vast illumination seems, that gilds
With dreadful splendor the surrounding gloom.
Our troops, undaunted, quicken as they tread,
And hasty marching grows to eager speed.
To arms! to arms! the scar'd besiegers cry.
Your arms are here! th'advancing foe replies,
— Thirsting to drench their swords in  blood!