While their belovéd friends began to arm,
To burn a town which never did them harm.
LXXVII.
Suwarrow,—who but saw things in the gross.
Being much too gross to see them in detail,
Who calculated life as so much dross,
And as the wind a widowed nation's wail,
And cared as little for his army's loss
(So that their efforts should at length prevail)
As wife and friends did for the boils of Job,—