That one can’t well drive into battle.
“O could I but affairs contrive
To be for one half hour alive,
What flaming shafts of indignation
I’d hurl at imps of Tractoration!
“I’ll batter ye with Pluto’s bludgeon,
Unless to battle you now budge on,
And make more bluster with your train,
Than devils in a hurricane!
“I’ll drive ye down”—but dawning day