So, the storm subsides to calm:
They see the green trees wave85
On the heights o'erlooking Grève.
Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.
"Just our rapture to enhance;
Let the English rake the bay,
Gnash their teeth, and glare askance90
As they cannonade away!
'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"
How ho
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