Down on the flying foe your arrows shower!
7.
They run! They run! Where now that wood of spears?
Where the gay flags that flaunted in their midst?
Rays from their bloodstained arms no longer flash!
How many are they? Count them well, my child.
20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13,
12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
8.
One! There is left not one. ’Tis o’er!