When, tried in open combat, fair and straight,
Your Huns were flattened out like swatted flies.
Well, make the most of this so timely boom,
For Russia yet may cut the cancer out—
Her heart is big enough—and turn about
Clean-limbed and strong and terrible as doom.
But, though she fail us in the final test,
Not there, not there, my child, the end shall be,
But where, without your option, France and we
Have made our own arrangements further West.