If not in poetry, at least in fact;

And fact is Truth, the grand desideratum!

Of which, howe'er the Muse describes each act,

There should be ne'ertheless a slight substratum.

But now the town is going to be attacked;

Great deeds are doing—how shall I relate 'em?

Souls of immortal Generals! Phoebus watches

To colour up his rays from your despatches.[HX]