Then they marched back, but not,
Not the five hundred.
IV.
Cives to right of them,
Cives to left of them,
Cives behind them,
Shouted and thundered.
Flirting with many a belle
While torch and head-gear fell,
They that had marched so well (?)
Came o'er the cobble-stones,
Played out in legs and lungs,
All that was left of them, -
Left of five hundred.
V.
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