Now stood Eliza on the wood-crown’d height
O’er Chobham’s plain, spectatress of the fight;
Sought with proud eye, amid the noisy strife,
Her own John Jenkins, private in the Life
Guards Blue. This day a holyday she’d got,
Telling her Missus (whether true or not,
Who knows?) her grandmother in danger lay
Of death, and might she go out for the day?
From hill to hill the Guards the foe pursued;
She viewed her Jenkins, or believed she viewed;