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O'er Gallia's hosts victorious, It turn'd their pride of yore; Its fame on earth is glorious, Renown'd from shore to shore. "The soldier's heart has bounded When o'er the tide of war; Where death's brief cry resounded, It flash'd a blazing star. Or floating over leaguer'd wall, It met his lifted eye; Like war-horse to the trumpet's call, He rush'd to victory!
Meantime from Persia's hosts the deep'ning shout Answer'd their shout; no time for cold delay; But ship 'gainst ship its brazen beak impell'd. First to the charge a Grecian galley rush'd; Ill the Phoenician bore the rough attack Its sculptured prow all shatter'd. Each advanced, Daring an opposite.
"Amidst the court a Gothic fountain play'd, Symmetrical, but deck'd with carvings quaint, Strange faces, like to men in masquerade, And here perhaps a monster, there a saint: The spring rush'd through grim mouths of granite made, And sparkled into basins, where it spent Its little torrent in a thousand bubbles, Like man's vain glory, and his vainer troubles."
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