Chapter 1203 of 1964 · 66 words · ~1 min read

XXIX.

Don Juan, who had shone in the late slaughter, Was left upon his way with the despatch, Where blood was talked of as we would of water; And carcasses that lay as thick as thatch O'er silenced cities, merely served to flatter Fair Catherine's pastime--who looked on the match Between these nations as a main of cocks, Wherein she liked her own to stand like rocks.