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When we were panic-struck, reft of our wits, Treading, like senseless sheep, each other down, Heaven sent us aid.

And be its goodness praised! So near the verge of merciless destruction, What blessed aid was sent?

By our fierce enemy, as I have said, So sorely press'd, a powerful voice was heard Calling our courage back; and on the sudden, As if the yawning earth had sent it up, A noble form, clad in the Hermit's weeds, But fighting with such fury irresistible As armed warrior, no, nor mortal man Did ever fight, upon our side appear'd, Inspiring us with valour. Instantly, We turn'd again on our astonish'd foe, Who fled to gain the breach by which they enter'd. Few have escaped; and by our noble Hermit Tortona's lord is slain,

That mighty Arm which still protects the innocent, Weak woman, helpless infancy, and all