Thro' Thee, the half-starv'd Soldier sheaths in Arms
His rugged Limbs, and in the Casque his Head;
Thro' Thee, sustains the Foe-men's rude Alarms;
The Toils of watching, and the Battle's Dread:
Now, scorching with the Sun that scalds his Brain;
Now, stiff with Ice, and drench'd with chilling Rain.