“What! buxom damsels--not discerned before. “Where hid my Venus?” Blanca cried: “Forbear!”-- “How now? By Heaven, this coyness fires me more; “No dame of Normandy more beauteous fair, “No Bretonne maiden binds more golden hair.”-- “Black,” quoth his comrade “is of Beauty’s flower “For me the hue--so, lovingly we’ll share. “Come, be a soldier’s bride--for half an hour.” He grinned--both troopers laughed--the maids were in their power! VII. This Blanca saw, nor seemed she to resist, E’en smote not when the dastard seized her waist, Resented nought when one her sister kist, Nor frowned when his compeer herself embraced. Thus lulled each fear, each dark suspicion chased, They called for wine, the lawless soldier’s bane. O’erjoyed was Blanca, yet with eager haste As poured she cup on cup which swift they drain, Betrayed no joy, though fast it mounted to each brain. VIII. Fired with the generous vintage, which gave all The ruffian forth, as gives it forth the balm Of nobler natures, the hussars appal The maidens’ breasts with many a sinking qualm. Hell gleams from forth their eyes; and burns each palm; Distended wide their satyr nostrils scare! Ye maids of England, blissful in your calm Security, oh, long from you be far Invasion’s horrors dire, the fiendishness of War! IX. One villain seized the gentle Ana’s arm, And dragged her to the bowering vineyard near; With cruel irony, “lest aught of harm,” He said, “should chance to reach your sister dear, “I’ll take my carbine with me,”--for with fear He marked the flashing wrath in Blanca’s eye; Then o’er his shoulder with this parting jeer He sought to rouse his comrade: “Jules, good b’ye; “The dove you think you’ve caught may like a falcon fly.” X. But Jules still cried: “More wine!” And Blanca poured Like Hebe for this flagrant Hercules, While ever and anon she eyed his sword; But--happier fate--while drains he to the lees Another cup, he drops his head and frees His carbine with the movement. Swift as thought, She lifts the weapon--to the vineyard flees;-- The deadly tube she to a level brought, When Ana’s struggling arm a friendly vine-branch caught. XI. Unskilled her aim--but stainless purity Gave loftiest courage, nerving eye and hand. She breathed a prayer--an instant gazed on high-- “Oh, Virgin Queen, _mi madre_, guardian stand!” Next instant she discharged the flaming brand. Within the throb of Ana’s beauteous breast Flew the fleet bullet. Heaven its progress banned; And through the ravisher’s hot heart it prest, His fell design extinct in death’s eternal rest!