Silence, no longer useful, now gives way
To all the dreadful din that battle loves.
The haughty trumpet, and the vig'rous drum,
With the shrill fife's acuter voice, accord
To summon valour in the fearfull'st heart.
The  rush forth, impetuous and confus'd.
No orders thought on, and no orders heard:
Some to the trench, some to the chariots fly
To buckle to the shafts the frighted horses:
— The restive steeds reject th'accustom'd yoke,
Dash their fierce leaders wildly to the earth,
Then, plunging, bound along the beamy plain.