And while he stalks abroad, on his triumphant way,
We fetter his allies; his arms we hide:
Allies—that till he came had unmolested sway
To make within our walls these breaches wide,
Through which our grim and ghastly Foe did stride;
Arms—that for his right hand we have furbished many a day.
And now with bended knees, and heads bowed to the ground,
In sudden piety high Heaven we sue
To stay the Plague that still his mightiest strength has found
In what we have done ill or failed to do—