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William III
In stubborn retreat or in stately advance,
From the Portugal coast to the cork-woods of Spain
She had puzzled some excellent Marshals of France
Till none of them wanted to meet her again:
But later, near Brussels, Napoleon, no less,
Arranged for a Waterloo ball with Brown Bess.

She had danced till the dawn of that terrible day—
She danced on till dusk of more terrible night,
And before her linked squares his battalions gave way
And her long fierce quadrilles put his lancers to flight.
And when his gilt carriage drove off in the press,
‘I have danced my last dance for the world!’ said Brown Bess.