The judge once chang’d, no wars are free from guilt.
The better cause gives us the greater hope
Of prosperous wars; wherein, if once I hap
To spy the wonted signs, that never fail’d
Their guide—your threatening looks, your fiery eyes,
And bustling bodies prest to present spoil,
The field is won! Even then, methinks, I see
The wonted wastes and scattered heads of foes,
The Irish carcass kick’d, and Picts oppress’d,
And Saxons slain to swim in streams of blood.