Impression left after listening to story narrated by a French cavalry officer.
Far off the eye could catch the sea aglimmer
Against the west,--now but a shimmer,--
And tremulous, with each wink its line grew dimmer;
Till now a massed-up blur alone remains,
Stabbed through by lightning; pommel and reins
Blooded with sword-thrusts and long trickling stains.
Keen was the crackle of the steady thunder,
Shriller the screaming shot, and under
My horse's hoofs they tore the world asunder.
The lightnings keen! but just above the bridge
Flamed a live furnace, and the ridge
Of tents ran fire, even to the river's edge.
Its current, curdled, dammed the purple tide
With wrecks; the torrent, stupefied,
Shrank from the heroes who down-dropping died.
Night was disguised, an unsunned monster day;
And daybreak, coming, snatched the gray
Smoke muffle, and close hid her face away.
