From “Alice of Monmouth”
OUR good steeds snuff the evening air,
  Our pulses with their purpose tingle;
The foeman’s fires are twinkling there;
  He leaps to hear our sabres jingle!
        HALT!
Each carbine send its whizzing ball:
Now, cling! clang! forward all,
      Into the fight!

Dash on beneath the smoking dome:...