His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye, (436)
His eye commends the leading to his hand; (437)
His hand, as proud of such a dignity, (438)
Smoking with pride, march'd on to make his stand (439)
On her bare breast, the heart of all her land;
Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale, (441)
Left their round turrets destitute and pale.