LV. Don Roderick turn'd him as the shout grew loud- A gallant navy stemm'd the billows broad. And flash'd the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear, And the wild beach return'd the seamen's jovial cheer. LVI. It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight! The billows foam'd beneath a thousand oars, Fast as they land the red-cross ranks unite, Legions on legions bright'ning all the shores. Then banners rise, and cannon-signal roars, Then peals the warlike thunder of the drum, And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb, LVII. A various host they came-whose ranks display The deep battalion locks its firm array, And meditates his aim the marksman light; Nor the fleet ordnance whirl'd by rapid steed, LVIII. A various host-from kindred realms they came, And with their deeds of valour deck her crown. Their eyes of azure, and their locks of brown, And the blunt speech that bursts without a pause, And freeborn thoughts, which league the Soldier with the Laws. LIX. And, O! loved warriors of the Minstrel's land! And level for the charge your arms are laid, P LX. Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings, And HE, yon Chieftain-strike the proudest tone Of thy bold harp, green Isle !-the Hero is thine own. LXI. Now on the scene Vimeira should be shown, On Talavera's fight should Roderick gaze, And hear Corunna wail her battle won, And see Busaco's crest with lightning blaze :But shall fond fable mix with heroes' praise? Hath Fiction's stage for Truth's long triumphs room? And dare her wild-flowers mingle with the bays, That claim a long eternity to bloom Around the warrior's crest, and o'er the warrior's tomb! LXII. Or may I give adventurous Fancy scope, And stretch a bold hand to the awful veil That hides futurity from anxious hope, Bidding beyond it scenes of glory hail, And painting Europe rousing at the tale Of Spain's invaders from her confines hurl'd, While kindling nations buckle on their mail, And Fame, with clarion-blast and wings unfurl'd, To Freedom and Revenge awakes an injured World! LXIII. O vain, though anxious, is the glance I cast, The deeds recorded, and the laurels won. Yet grant for faith, for valour, and for Spain, One note of pride and fire, a Patriot's parting strain! CONCLUSION. I. "WHO shall command Estrella's mountain-tide Let him stand forth and bar mine eagles' way, II. "Else ne'er to stoop, till high on Lisbon's towers To Marshal, Duke, and Peer, Gaul's Leader spoke. And smiled like Eden in her summer dress ;- III. And shall the boastful Chief maintain his word, Though Heaven hath heard the wailings of the land, Though Lusitania whet her vengeful sword, Though Britons arm, and WELLINGTON command! No! grim Busaco's iron ridge shall stand An adamantine barrier to his force; And from its base shall wheel his shatter'd band, IV. Yet not because Alcoba's mountain-hawk Hath on his best and bravest made her food, For full in view the promised conquest stood, And Lisbon's matrons from their walls, might sum That bids the bands of France to storm and havoc come. V. Four moons have heard these thunders idly roll'd, As famish'd wolves survey a guarded fold- At length they move-but not to battle-fray, Where cowardice and cruelty unite To damn with double shame their ignominious flight! VI. O triumph for the Fiends of Lust and Wrath! The hoary priest even at the altar shot, Childhood and age given o'er to sword and flame, Woman to infamy;-no crime forgot, By which inventive demons might proclaim Immortal hate to man, and scorn of God's great name ! VII. The rudest sentinel, in Britain born, With horror paused to view the havoc done, Riches nor poverty the tax shall shun, Nor prince nor peer, the wealthy nor the gay, Nor the poor peasant's mițe, nor bard's more worthless lay. VIII. But thou-unfoughten wilt thou yield to Fate, Marcella's pass, nor Guarda's mountain-chain? Behold, where, named by some prophetic Seer, Flows Honour's Fountain,* as foredoom'd the stain From thy dishonour'd name and arms to clear—-Fallen Child of Fortune, turn, redeem her favour here! IX. Yet, ere thou turn'st, collect each distant aid; Of Talavera, or Mondego's shore ! Marshal each band thou hast, and summon more; And weary out his arm-thou canst not quell his soul. *The literal translation of Fuentes d'Honoro. X. O vainly gleams with steel Agueda's shore, With frantic charge and tenfold odds, in vain! Wild from his plaided ranks the yell was given— Vengeance and grief gave mountain-rage the rein, And, at the bloody spear-point headlong driven, Thy Despot's giant guards fled like the rack of heaven. XI. Go, baffled boaster! teach thy haughty mood And if he chafe, be his own fortune tried- XII. But you, ye heroes of that well-fought day, Or bind on every brow the laurels won? XIII. Yes! hard the task, when Britons wield the sword, Hark! Albuera thunders Beresford, And Red Barosa shouts for dauntless GRÆME! O for a verse of tumult and of flame, Bold as the bursting of their cannon sound, To bid the world re-echo to their fame! For never, upon gory battle-ground, With conquest's well-bought wreath were braver victors crown'd! XIV. O who shail grudge him Albuera's bays, Who brought a race regenerate to the field; Roused them to emulate their fathers' praise, Temper'd their headlong rage, their courage And raised fair Lusitania's fallen shield, And gave new edge to Lusitania's sword, And taught her sons forgotten arms to wieldShiver'd my harp, and burst its every chord, If it forget thy worth, victorious BERESFORD! steel'd, |