Whate'er the time permit; but when their guards Shall from the trenches with superiour force

Advance upon your flanks, resist ye not
But save your valued lives for future time
And opportunities more suitable."

245

The hero spake, and instant gave the word.

As when the rapid Exe, by melted snows

And northern torrents swoln, sweeps o'er the plains, Nor herds, nor fields, nor hedge, nor bridge, nor

250

town

Can stop its furious course, while Exon's walls,
And Cleve's green summits echo back the roar;
So rush'd the comrades of the intrepid chief

On the audacious foe, who tho' elate
By recent victory, and in numbers strong,
Could not withstand brave Abercrombie's arm,

255

But fled dismay'd; then did the British troops
Fulfil their chieftain's orders, and the wreck

252. Cleve's green summits-Cleve, which has long been a seat of the Northmores, is situated on a commanding eminence opposite to the ancient city of Exeter, the capital of the West of England; the river Exe, which is subject to periodical inundations, runs below the hill, and between it and the city.

257. then did the British troops &c.-" The party under colo nel Abercrombie was formed into two detachments, which, about four in the morning, attacked the two batteries with great impetuosity, and carried both with inconsiderable loss; but the guards from the trenches immediately advancing on them, they retreated without being able to effect any thing important, and the few pieces which they had hastily spiked were soon rendered fit for service." Life of W. iv. 545; Ramsay, ii. 270.

Of the Columbian works had been complete,
Had not St. Simon's penetrating eye

Perceiv'd the direful evil, and aloud

260

Thus to his troops he cries; "For shame, ye Gauls!
Where do you speed your flight? No other hope,
No other bulwark now awaits your steps;
In your own arms your hopes of safety lie. 265
Are these your promises, your firm resolves,
To die, or conquer in Columbia's cause?
But tho' ye have forgot your duty, Gauls!
Your chieftain well knows his. My rule's to sleep
On the drench'd plain of battle." Scarce he

spake,

270

And in mid horrours plung'd. 'Twas then the Gauls

No sooner saw their chieftain's valued life
Endanger'd by their fault, than as the dust
Of nitred powder, when the awful reed

Is once applied, instant the whole explodes;
So they with one accord, by love, and shame,
And conscience urg'd, out of their trenches sprang
Shouting aloud; "Save, save, our general save;"
And furious rush'd amid the hostile ranks.

275

And now the horrid bayonet's dreaded point Drank deep the blood of men with rage renew'd; While Discord, never satiate, laughing stood, Urging fell slaughter, and the groans of death.

280

Then had the struggle 'twixt the combatants
Been long and glorious, the Gauls to drive

285

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The impetuous Britons from their haughty post,
And save their blasted laurels; Britain's sons

To check rebellion's progress, and destroy

The foe's encroaching works: both stood, both

fought,

Both with one mind infuriate were impell'd 290
Resolv'd to die, or conquer on the spot.
So mighty Hector, so the Grecian chiefs
Strove for Patroclus' corpse, the one to save,
And back convey it to the Grecian ships,
The other to proud Troy to bear the prize;
While all around the heaped bodies lay

295

Drenching the earth with Greek and Trojan blood.

Then had insatiate Death, with Terrour join'd,
In the dark web of slaughter wrapt them both,

Had not great Abercrombie's piercing eye

300

Perceiv'd the pouring deluge, and aloud
Thus to his troops exclaims; "Comrades in arms!

Have ye forgot your orders to retire

From the surrounding foe? all contest now
Is vain and useless; save your precious lives
While yet to save is easy; haste, retreat,
Obey your chieftain's voice, nor let that voice
Accuse of rashness what should be enroll'd

305

In deeds of highest valour." Thus he spake,
And they reluctant yield: flank'd by the foe, 310
Almost enclos'd, and from their countrymen
Cut off, unwilling still to quit their post,

They yet would fight, and fighting did retire.

So mighty Ajax by the Trojans press'd,

Yet fought, and turn'd, and turn'd, and fought

again,

315

Much loath to quit the field, until at last,
By Jove's supreme decree, his mighty limbs,
Slow changing their short steps, retir'd compell'd.

END OF THE NINTH BOOK,

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