And thrust for thrust, and blows return for blows.
But still in vain the British sabres fall,
Whose strokes rebounded from a brazen wall.
At length more wary, with experience stor’d,
They now apply the science of the sword:
Just at the juncture of the arm and chest,
Where meet the mail-plates of the back and breast;
In gentle curve, they leave an opening way,
To fit the shape and give the shoulder play;
Some watch the moment while the uplifted arm,