Arm, Warriors, Arm for fight, the foe at hand,
               Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit
               This day, fear not his flight; so thick a Cloud
               He comes, and settled in his face I see
               Sad resolution and secure: let each
               His Adamantine coat gird well, and each
               Fit well his Helm, gripe fast his orbit Shield,
               
               Born even or high, for this day will pour down,
               If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower,
               But rattling storm of Arrows barbed with fire.