Poem

Fly, SON OF TERROR, fly!Back o'er the burning desert he is fled!In heaps the gory deadAnd livid in the trenches lie!His dazzling files no moreFlash on the Syrian sands,As when from Egypt's ravaged shore,Aloft their gleamy falchions swinging,Aloud their victor pÊans singing,Their onward way the Gallic legions took.Despair, dismay, are on his altered look,Yet hate indignant lowers;Whilst high on Acre's granite towersThe shade of English Richard seems to stand;And frowning far, in dusky rows,A thousand archers draw their bows!They join the triumph of the British band,And the rent watch-tower echoes to the cry,Heard o'er the rolling surge--They fly, they fly!

Now the hostile fires decline,Now through the smoke's deep volumes shine;Now above the bastions grayThe clouds of battle roll away;Where, with calm, yet glowing mien,Britain's victorious youth is seen!He lifts his eye,His country's ensigns wave through smoke on high,Whilst the long-mingled shout is heard--They fly, they fly!

Hoary CARMEL, witness thou,And lift in conscious pride thy brow;As when upon thy cloudy plainBAAL'S PROPHETS cried in vain!They gashed their flesh, and leaped, and cried,From morn till lingering even-tide.Then stern ELIJAH on his foesStrong in the might of Heaven arose!--On CARMEL'S top he stood,And while the blackening clouds and rainCame sounding from the Western main,Raised his right hand that dropped with impious blood.ANCIENT KISHON prouder swell,On whose banks they bowed, they fell,The mighty ones of yore, when, pale with dread,Inglorious SISERA fled!So let them perish, Holy LORD,Who for OPPRESSION lift the sword;But let all those who, armed for freedom, fight,"Be as the sun who goes forth in his might."

Migdol was a fortress which guarded the pass of Egypt;Baal-zephon, a sea idol, generally considered the guardian of the coast.

The Cushites inhabited the granite rocks stretching along the RedSea.