Aye, look again--that line so black
And trampled, marks the bivouack,
Yon deep-graved ruts the artillery’s track,
So often lost and won
And close beside, the harden’d mud
Still shows where, fetlock-deep in blood,
The fierce dragoon, through battle’s flood,
Dash’d the hot war-horse on.
These spots of excavation tell
The ravage of the bursting shell--
And feel’st thou not the tainted steam,
That reeks against the sultry beam,
From yonder trenched mound?
The pestilential fumes declare
That Carnage has replenish’d there
Her garner-house profound.