He forgot that he was engaged in combating the universe.

He threw aside his mental pamphlets on the philosophy of the retreated and rules for the guidance of the damned.
The fight was lost.

The dragons were coming with invincible strides.
The army, helpless in the matted thickets and blinded by the overhanging night, was going to be swallowed.

War, the red animal, war, the blood-swollen god, would have bloated fill.
Within him something bade to cry out.

He had the impulse to make a rallying speech, to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get his tongue to call into the air: "Why--why--what--what 's th' matter ?" Soon he was in the midst of them.