The Germans On The Height Of Hochheim

A poem by William Wordsworth

Abruptly paused the strife; the field throughout
Resting upon his arms each warrior stood,
Checked in the very act and deed of blood,
With breath suspended, like a listening scout.
O Silence! thou wert mother of a shout
That through the texture of yon azure dome
Cleaves its glad way, a cry of harvest home
Uttered to Heaven in ecstasy devout!
The barrier Rhine hath flashed, through battle-smoke,
On men who gaze heart-smitten by the view,
As if all Germany had felt the shock!
Fly, wretched Gauls! ere they the charge renew
Who have seen, themselves now casting off the yoke
The unconquerable Stream his course pursue.

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