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!
IX.