For a handful of Irish are posted inside.
By my faith, Charles Vaudemont will come rather late,
If he stay till Count Merci shall open that gate!
IV.
But in through St. Margaret's the Austrians pour,
And billet and barrack are ruddy with gore;
Unarmed and naked, the soldiers are slain—
There's an enemy's gauntlet on Villeroy's rein—
"A thousand pistoles and a regiment of horse—
Release me, MacDonnell!"—they hold on their course.