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ye not whom the reeking sabre smote;
Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc,
For on this morn three potent nations meet,
XL. By Heaven !it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for their prey! All join the chase, but fewthe triumph share ;
The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away,
To feed the crow on Talavera's plain,
XLII. There shall they rot-Ambition's honour'd fools! Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay! Vain Sophistry ! in these behold the tools, The broken tools, that tyrants cast away By myriads, when they dare to pave their way With human hears to what?-a dream alone. Can despots compass aught that hails their sway?
Or call with truth one span of earth their own, Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone?
XLIII. Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief! As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim prick'd his steed, Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief, A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed! Peace to the perish'd ! may the warrior's meed And tears of triumph their reward prolong! Till others fall where other chieftains lead
Thy name shall circle round the gaping throng,
game of lives, and barter breath for fame ; Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay, Though thousands fall to deck some single name lo sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim Who strike, blest hirelings for their country's good, And die, that living might have prov'd her shame?
Perish'd, perchance, in some domestic feud,
Is vain, or Ilion, Tyre might yet survive,
Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals,
Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret ;
When first Spain's queen beheld the black-ey'd boy, And gore-fac'd Treason sprung from her adulterate joy.
XLIX. On yon long, level plain, at distance crown'd With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets rest, Wide scatter'd hoof.marks dint the wounded ground; And, 'scath'd by fire, the green sward's darken'd vest Tells that the foe was Andalusia's guest: Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host, Here the bold peasant stormed the dragon's nest ;
Still does he mark it with triumphant boast, And points to yonder cliffs, which oft were won and losf, L. And whomsoe'er along the path you meet Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet; (9) Woe to the man that walks in public view Without of loyalty this token true; Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke; And sorely would the gallic foeman rue,
If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke,
The holster'd steed beneath the shed of thatch,
LII. Portend the deeds to come ;-but he whose nod Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod; A little moment deigneth to delay; Soon will his legions sweep through these their way; The West must own the Scourger of the world. Ab ! Spain ! how sad will be thy reckoning day,
When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings uufurl'd, And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurl’d.
LIII. And must they fall, the young, the proud, the brave, To swell one bloated Chief's up wholesome reign, No step between submission and a grave, The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain ? And doth the Power that man adores ordain Their doom, nor heed the suppliant's appeal, Is all that desperate valour acts in vain !
And counsel sage, and patriotic zeal, The Veteran's skill, Youth's fire, and Manhood's heart of
The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead stread. Stalks with Minerva’s step where Mars might quake to
LV. Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, Oh ! had you known her in her softer hour, Mark'd her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil, Heard her light, lively tones in Lady's bower, Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power, Her fairy form, with more than female grace, Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower
Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face, Thin the clos'd ranks, and lead in Glory's fearful chase.
LVI. Her lover sinks-she sheds no ill-tim'd tear ; Her chief is slain-she fills his fatal post; Her fellows flee-she checks their base career: The foe retires-she heads the sallying host : Who can appease like her a lover's ghost ? Who can avenge so well a leader's fall ? What maid retrieve when man's flush'd hope is lost?
Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul,
Remoter females, fani'd for sickening prate ;