That do not seem in love with martyrdom.
How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff
Their hose as they have doffed their hats, 'twould be
A blessing, as a mark[244] the less for plunder.
But let them fly; the crimson kennels now
Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire10
Is of the self-same purple hue.
Enter a Party fighting—Arnold at the head of the Besiegers.
He comes,
Hand in hand with the mild twins—Gore and Glory.[dq]