And now beneath the covert of the night

Advancing, guided by the voice of woe,

Where on the earth the wounded mourners lay,

With trembling steps and fearful whispering voice,

Each seeks, and calls him whom she came to seek:

And many a fugitive, whom force or fear

Had driven from the Field, steals softly back,

Anxious to know the fate of some lov'd friend.

Mutual fears appal the mingled group,

Starting alternate at the unknown tongue:

They fear a foe in each uncertain form

That through the gloom imperfectly appears.

The mournful horrors of the doleful night

Melt every heart: ... and when the morning's beam

Shews the sad scene, and gives an interview,

Resentment, that worst torment of the mind,

Resentment ceases, satiate wrath subsides.

Woman is present: and so strong the charm

Of weeping Woman's fascinating tears,

That though surviving Heroes' unwash'd hands

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