Exhausting all the arts that War supplies.
A yawning chasm within the breach doth end;
Loopholed with fire a counterwall defies
Approach;—where’er the rampart broken lies,
A traverse cuts it off—the streets are trenched;
Mines trebly charged prepare to blot the skies
With shattered limb, and head from shoulder wrenched,
Of him who dares the assault, yet not a cheek is blenched!
XL.
And strongest whetstone of fierce Valour’s edge