Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/155

 'Tis the bound of the lion When roused from his lair. Ha! fiercer and wilder And madder by far,— On thunders the might Of the Moslemite war. Allah, il allah!

Forth lash their wild horses, With loose-flowing rein; The steel grides their flank, Their hoof scarce dints the plain. Like the mad stars of heaven, Now the Delis rush out; O'er the thunder of cannon Swells proudly their shout,— And sheeted with foam, Like the surge of the sea, Over wreck, death, and woe, rolls Each fierce Osmanli. Alla, il allah!

Fast forward, still forward, Man follows on man,