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As one whose practised eye could apprehend
All vantages in war, his troops he drew;
And on this hill, the battle's vital point,
Bore with collected power, outnumbering

The British ranks twice told. Such fearful odds
Were balanced by Sir Arthur's master mind
And by the British heart. Twice during night
The fatal spot they storm'd, and twice fell back,
Before the bayonet driven. Again at morn
They made their fiery onset, and again
Repell'd, again at noon renew'd the strife.
Yet was their desperate perseverance vain,
Where skill by equal skill was countervail'd
And numbers by superior courage foil'd;
And when the second night drew over them
Its sheltering cope, in darkness they retired,
At all points beaten. Long in the red page
Of war, shall Talavera's famous name
Stand forth conspicuous. While that name endures,
Bear in thy soul, O Spain, the memory
Of all thou suffered'st from perfidious France,
Of all that England in thy cause achieved.

XXVI.

FOR THE DESERTO DE BUSACO.

READER, thou standest upon holy ground
Which Penitence hath chosen for itself,
And war disturbing the deep solitude
Hath left it doubly sacred. On these heights
The host of Portugal and England stood,
Arrayed against Massena, when the chief
Proud of Rodrigoo and Almeida won,
Press'd forward, thinking the devoted realm
Full sure should fall a prey. He in his pride
Scorn'd the poor numbers of the English foe,
And thought the children of the land would fly
From his advance, like sheep before the wolf,
Scattering, and lost in terror. Ill he knew
The Lusitanian spirit! Ill he knew
The arm, the heart of England! Ill he knew
Her Wellington! He learnt to know them here.
That spirit and that arm, that heart, that mind,
Here on Busaco gloriously display'd,

When hence repulsed the beaten boaster wound
Below, his course circuitous, and left

His thousands for the beasts and ravenous fowl.
The Carmelite who in his cell recluse
Was wont to sit, and from a skull receive
Death's silent lesson, whereso'er he walk

Henceforth may find his teachers.

He shall find

The Frenchmen's bones in glen and grove, on rock And height, where'er the wolves and carrion birds Have strewn them, wash'din torrents, bare and bleach'd By sun and rain and by the winds of heaven.

XXVII.

FOR THE LINES OF TORKES VEDRAS.

THROUGH all Iberia, from the Atlantic shores
To far Pyrene, Wellington hath left
His trophies; but no monument records
To after-time a more enduring praise,

Than this which marks his triumph here attain'd
By intellect, and patience to the end

Holding through good and ill its course assign'd,
The stamp and seal of greatness. Here the chief
Perceived in foresight Lisbon's sure defence,
A vantage ground for all reverse prepared,
Where Portugal and England might defy
All strength of hostile numbers. Not for this
Of hostile enterprize did he abate,

Or gallant purpose: witness the proud day
Which saw Soult's murderous host from Porto driven

Bear witness Talavera, made by him

Famous for ever; and that later fight
When from Busaco's solitude the birds,
Then first affrighted in their sanctuary,

Fled from the thunders and the fires of war.
But when Spain's feeble counsels, in delay
As erring, as in action premature,
Had left him in the field without support,
And Buonaparte having trampled down

The strength and pride of Austria, this way turn'd
His single thought and undivided power,
Retreating hither the great General came;
And proud Massena, when the boastful chief
Of plundered Lisbon dreamt, here found himself
Stopt suddenly in his presumptuous course.
From Ericeyra on the western sea,

By Mafra's princely convent, and the heights
Of Montichique, and Bucellas famed
For generous vines, the formidable works
Extending, rested on the guarded shores
Of Tagus, that rich river who received
Into his ample and rejoicing port,

The harvests and the wealth of distant lands,
Secure, insulting with the glad display

The robber's greedy sight. Five months the foe
Beheld these lines, made inexpugnable

By perfect skill, and patriot feelings here
With discipline conjoin'd, courageous hands,
True spirits, and one comprehensive mind
All overseeing and pervading all.

Five months, tormenting still his heart with hope,
He saw his projects frustrated; the power
Of the blaspheming tyrant whom he served
Fail in the proof; his thousands disappear,
In silent and inglorious war consumed ;
Till hence retreating, madden'd with despite,
Here did the self-styled Son of Victory leave,
Never to be redeem'd, that vaunted name.

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