XIV.

XIV.

Thus spoke the chief;--then drove his angry course Where Poland pour’d her unrelenting force: Sharing his rage, exulting in his wrath, His troops pursue his death-awakening path. 210 As, when the torrents overwhelm the plain, And threaten ruin to the golden grain; So, fierce with hatred and revenge, they go And heap destruction on th’ astounded foe: Some fly; yet some with bolder courage fir’d, Still keep their ground, by martial rage inspir’d: And first, dark Holstein, whom Eliza bore To fierce Kolinskorf, on Masavia’s shore; Another Hercules, whose mighty hand Could awe the boldest of a modern band, 220 With scornful eye, beheld the hostile storm, Wav’d his bright lance, and rear’d his giant form; Where rag’d the fiercest of the British force, With pow’rful arm, he drove his sweeping course.