good old blooms of northern Europe which My Dear had so

His vital parts were safeguarded by spears

That bristled in his body. Fortune saw

Thus waged a novel combat, for there warred

Against one man an army. Why with darts,

Madmen, assail him and with slender shafts,

'Gainst which his life is proof? Or ponderous stones

This warrior chief shall overwhelm, or bolts

Flung by the twisted thongs of mighty slings.