The wall is rent, the ruins yawn; 230

And, with to-morrow's earliest dawn,

O'er the disjointed mass shall vault

The foremost of the fierce assault.

The bands are ranked—the chosen van

Of Tartar and of Mussulman,

The full of hope, misnamed "forlorn,"[347]

Who hold the thought of death in scorn,

And win their way with falchion's force,

Or pave the path with many a corse,

O'er which the following brave may rise, 240

Their stepping-stone—the last who dies![oq]