The World's Best Poetry, Volume 08…
“ On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, how fast his generals ride! And mustering came his chosen troops like clouds at eventide. Six thousand English veterans in stately column tread; Their cannon blaze in front and flank, Lord Hay is at their head. Steady they step adown the slopes, steady they mount the hill, Steady they load, steady they fire, moving right onward still, Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy, as through a furnace-blast, Through rampart, trench, and palisade, and bullets showering fast ”
