The Night, so dreadful! lengthen'd out her hours,
As though she staid to view the battle's conflict,
Or hide its horrors from the springing day.
At length the glowing portals of the East
Disclos'd the Morn — in splendor she arose;
But, as if grief-struck at the murd'rous scene,
Her face in humid clouds she instant wrapt,
And seem'd to weep in drops of sacred pity.
Yet Conquest ceas'd not, with her vig'rous arm,
To plant her banners o'er the reeking field:
— For  her banners wav'd — for  she triumph'd,
And Vict'ry sung loud Iö's for the Christians.