XLI.

Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice; Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high; Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies;[64] The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory! The Foe, the Victim, and the fond Ally That fights for all, but ever fights in vain,[65] Are met--as if at home they could not die-- To feed the crow on Talavera's plain, And fertilise the field that each pretends to gain.