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“This Light is glance and glare of lucent arm wherewith your Albuquerque’s hand shall tame the Hormuz Parsi’s heart which be his harm, refusing gentle rule as yoke of shame. There shall he see of shafts the strident swarm, in air revolving with recurvèd aim upon his archer, for our God shall aid, who holy faith of Mother Church would spread.”
Then waxt the woeful wail a sorer strain, “Oh, God, what vision in the further days! That fair young Prince of Gaul’s imperial vein, so knightly valiant, fain of fame and praise: I see him fighting, stricken, fallen, slain, piercèd in front by Caffre assegais:— Blush, Albion! blush, when Britons dare to flee and leave such Prince such óbscure doom to dree!”