XLII.
HAT Prelate mark'd his march-On
U banners blazed

With battles won in many a distant land, On eagle-standards and on arms he gazed ; “ And hopest thou, then," he said, “thy

power shall stand ? O! thou hast builded on the shifting sand, And thou hast temper'dit with slaughter's

flood; And know, fell scourge in the Almighty's

hand, Gore-moisten'd trees shall perish in the

bud, And, by a bloody death, shall die the Man of

Blood !”

XLIII,

HE ruthless Leader beckon'd from

his train A wan fraternal Shade, and bade him

kneel, And paled his temples with the Crown of

Spain,

While trumpets rang, and heralds cried

“ Castile !"+ Not that he loved him-No! In no man's

weal, Scarce in his own, e'er joy'd that sullen

heart; Yet round that throne he bade his warriors

wheel, That the poor puppet might perform his

part, And be a sceptred slave, at his stern beck to start.

XLIV.
BUT on the Natives of that land

misused,
Not long the silence of amazement

hung, Nor brook'd they long their friendly faith

abused; For, with a common shriek, the general

tongue Exclaim'd, “ To arms !”—and fast to arms

they sprung

And VALOUR woke, that Genius of the

Land ! Pleasure, and ease, and sloth, aside he

Aung,

As burst th’awakening Nazarite his band, When 'gainst his treacherous foes he clench'd his dreadful hand.

XLV. WHAT mimic Monarch now cast

anxious eye Upon the Satraps that begirt him round, Now doff'd his royal robe in act to fly,

And from his brow the diadem unbound. So oft, so near, the Patriot bugle wound, From Tarik's walls to Bilbao's mountains

blown, These martial satellites hard labour found,

To guard a while his substituted throneLight recking of his cause, but battling for

their own.

And it was echo'd from Corunna's wall ; Stately Seville responsive war-shot fung,

Grenada caught it in her Moorish hall ; Galicia bade her children fight or fall,

Wild Biscay shook his mountain-coronet, Valencia roused her at the battle-call, And, foremost still where Valour's sons

are met, First started to his gun each fiery Miquelet.

XLVII.
UT unappall’d, and burning for the
De fight,

The Invaders march, of victory secure ; Skilful their force to sever or unite,

And train'd alike to vanquish or endure. Nor skilful less, cheap conquest to ensure,

Discord to breathe, and jealousy to sow, To quell by boasting, and by bribes to

lure; While nought against them bring the

unpractised foe, Save hearts for Freedom's cause, and hands

for Freedom's blow.

xlvii. TROUDLY they march-but, O ! they

march not forth By one hot field to crown a brief campaign, As when their Eagles, sweeping through the

North,
Destroy'd at every stoopan ancient reign !
Far other fate had Heaven decreed for

Spain ;
In vain the steel, in vain the torch was

plied, New Patriot armies started from the slain, High blazed the war, and long, and far,

and wide,t And oft the God of Battles blest the righteous

side.

XLIX. or unatoned, where Freedom's foes

prevail, Remain'd their savage waste.. With

blade and brand, By day the invaders ravaged hill and dale,

But, with the darkness, the Guerilla band