“The first is near!--Let no one cross!--Take care!
“See! There they are!--Look out! The horn! Beware!
“Stand back!--They’re two!... It’s Girardot! No, no;
“It’s Charron! No, it’s Levegh!--How they blow
“That horn!”... But who can hope to recognize
Or name the shrilling bullet in its flight?
And what are names when glory blinds the eyes?
The towns love sport, and cheer; but, half in fright
The laboring peasants stop their ploughs to see
This avalanche--this hurtling mystery!