To wreath their laurels in each other's blood!

They once were friends; but France and England rose
In sounding arms and they are hostile foes!
They once were friends; but friendship may not shield
The warrior's breast upon the battle-field!
They once were friends; but, hark! the cannon's roar
Loudly proclaims that they are friends no more!
From rank to rank the stunning volley flies,
From rank to rank the groans of anguish rise;
Rank after rank is numbered with the slain;
Rank follows rank, and bleeds upon the plain.

Bravely they fought; with unabated zeal
In human gore they dipped the shining steel;
Pressed o'er the heaps of dying and of dead,
Where warriors groaned, and gallant heroes bled;
While from their lips, in quick and stifled breath
Arose the cry of "Victory, or death."

Louder and louder still the awful roar
Pealed from the heights, and shook the frightened shore.
Thick clouds of smoke enveloped friend and foe;
The volleyed thunder shook the depths below;
Mountain and echoing forest joined the cry,
And distant hills gave back the same reply.
With animating voice and waving hand
The British leader cheered his gallant band,
Pressed firmly forward where one endless tide
Of woe and carnage reigned on every side,--