VII.

  No stay—­no pause.  With one accord
    They grasped each others’ hand,
  And plunged into the angry flood,
    That bold and dauntless band. 
  High flew the spray above their heads,
    Yet onward still they bore,
  Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell,
    And shot and cannon roar. 
  “Now by the Holy Cross!  I swear,
    Since earth and sea began
  Was never such a daring deed
    Essayed by mortal man!”

  VIII.

  Thick blew the smoke across the stream,
    And faster flashed the flame: 
  The water plashed in hissing jets
    As ball and bullet came. 
  Yet onwards pushed the Cavaliers
    All stern and undismayed,
  With thousand armed foes before,
    And none behind to aid. 
  Once, as they neared the middle stream,
    So strong the torrent swept,
  That scarce that long and living wall,
    Their dangerous footing kept. 
  Then rose a warning cry behind,
    A joyous shout before: 
  “The current’s strong—­the way is long—­
    They’ll never reach the shore! 
  See, see!  They stagger in the midst,
    They waver in their line! 
  Fire on the madmen! break their ranks,
    And whelm them in the Rhine!”

  IX.

  Have you seen the tall trees swaying
    When the blast is piping shrill,
  And the whirlwind reels in fury
    Down the gorges of the hill? 
  How they toss their mighty branches,
    Striving with the tempest’s shock;
  How they keep their place of vantage,
    Cleaving firmly to the rock? 
  Even so the Scottish warriors
    Held their own against the river;
  Though the water flashed around them,
    Not an eye was seen to quiver;
  Though the shot flew sharp and deadly,
    Not a man relaxed his hold: 
  For their hearts were big and thrilling
    With the mighty thoughts of old. 
  One word was spoke among them,
    And through the ranks it spread—­
  “Remember our dead Claverhouse!”
    Was all the Captain said. 
  Then, sternly bending forward,
    They struggled on awhile,
  Until they cleared the heavy stream,
    Then rushed towards the isle.

  X.

  The German heart is stout and true,
    The German arm is strong;
  The German foot goes seldom back
    Where armed foemen throng. 
  But never had they faced in field
    So stern a charge before,
  And never had they felt the sweep
    Of Scotland’s broad claymore. 
  Not fiercer pours the avalanche
    Adown the steep incline,
  That rises o’er the parent springs
    Of rough and rapid Rhine—­
  Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven
    Than came the Scottish band,
  Right up against the guarded trench,
    And o’er it, sword in hand. 
  In vain their leaders forward press—­
    They meet the deadly brand!