Our Life-Guards ride with helm and blade.
I see each glittering cuirass shine,
But, gazing on the gay parade,
I own a wish to bite my nails,
To think such horses ate their tails.
Her lofty place would England keep
In Europe’s none too loving eye,
She’d make one grand and final sweep
Of all her System’s pedantry.[115]
But no—she bows by right divine.