VIII.

Fired with the generous vintage, which gave all The ruffian forth, as gives it forth the balm Of nobler natures, the hussars appal The maidens’ breasts with many a sinking qualm. Hell gleams from forth their eyes; and burns each palm; Distended wide their satyr nostrils scare! Ye maids of England, blissful in your calm Security, oh, long from you be far Invasion’s horrors dire, the fiendishness of War!