XLVI.

From Alpuhara's peak that bugle rung,
And it was echo'd from Corunna's wall;
Stately Seville responsive war-shot flung,
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.

But unappall'd, and burning for the 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.

XLVIII.

Proudly 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 stoop an 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,'
And oft the God of Battles blest the righteous side.

XLIX.

Nor 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

Came like night's tempest, and avenged the land,
And claim'd for blood the retribution due,

Probed the hard heart, and lopp'd the murd'rous hand; And Dawn, when o'er the scene her beams she threw, Midst ruins they had made, the spoilers' corpses knew.

[See Appendix, Note B.]

L.

What minstrel verse may sing, or tongue may tell,
Amid the vision'd strife from sea to sea,
How oft the Patriot banners rose or fell,
Still honour'd in defeat as victory!
For that sad pageant of events to be,

Show'd every form of fight by field and flood;
Slaughter and Ruin, shouting forth their glee,
Beheld, while riding on the tempest scud,

The waters choked with slain, the earth bedrench'd with blood!

LI.

Then Zaragoza-blighted be the tongue

That names thy name without the honour due!
For never hath the harp of Minstrel rung,
Of faith so felly proved, so firmly true!
Mine, sap, and bomb, thy shatter'd ruins knew,
Each art of war's extremity had room,
Twice from thy half-sack'd streets the foe withdrew,
And when at length stern fate decreed thy doom,
They won not Zaragoza, but her children's bloody tomb.'

LII.

Yet raise thy head, sad city! Though in chains,
Enthrall'd thou canst not be! Arise, and claim
Reverence from every heart where Freedom reigns,
For what thou worshippest !-thy sainted Dame,
She of the Column, honour'd be her name,

By all, whate'er their creed, who honour love!
And like the sacred relics of the flame,

That gave some martyr to the bless'd above, To every loyal heart may thy sad embers prove!

LIII.

Nor thine alone such wreck. Gerona fair!
Faithful to death thy heroes shall be sung,
Manning the towers while o'er their heads the air
Swart as the smoke from raging furnace hung;
Now thicker dark'ning where the mine was sprung,
Now briefly lighten'd by the cannon's flare,
Now arch'd with fire-sparks as the bomb was flung,
And redd'ning now with conflagration's glare,
While by the fatal light the foes for storm prepare.

[See Appendix, Note C.]

LIV.

While all around was danger, strife, and fear,
While the earth shook, and darken'd was the sky,
And wide Destruction stunn'd the listening ear,
Appall'd the heart, and stupified the eye,-
Afar was heard that thrice-repeated cry,

In which old Albion's heart and tongue unite,
Whene'er her soul is up, and pulse beats high,
Whether it hail the wine cup or the fight,
And bid each arm be strong, or bid each heart be light.

LV.

Don Roderick turn'd him as the shout grow loud-'
A varied scene the changeful vision show'd,
For, where the ocean mingled with the cloud,
A gallant navy stemm'd the billows broad.
From mast and stern St. George's symbol flow'd
Blent with the silver cross to Scotland dear;
Mottling the sea their landward barges row'd,'

And flash'd the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear,
And the wild beach return'd the seaman's jovial cheer.3

1

[MS.-"Don Roderick turn'd him at the sudden cry." ]

[MS. "Right for the shore unnumbered barges row'd." ]

3 [Compare with this passage, and the Valour, Bigotry, and Ambition of the previous stanzas, the celebrated personification of War, in the first canto of Childe Harold :

"Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands,
His blood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon :
Restless it rolls, now fix'd, and now anon

Flashing afar,-and at his iron feet

Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done;

For on this morn three potent nations meet

To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet.

"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 the prey!

All join the chase, but few the triumph share,
The grave shall bear the chiefest prize away,
And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.
"Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice;
Three tongues prefer strange orfsons on high;
Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies;
The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory!
The foe, the victim, and the fond ally

That fights for all, but ever fights in vain,

Are met as if at home they could not die

To feed the crow on Talavera's plain,

And fertilize the field that each pretends to gain."]

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,
Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet-flourish pours,
And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb,
For, bold in Freedom's cause, the bands of Ocean come!

LVII.

A various host they came-whose ranks display
Each mode in which the warrior meets the fight,
The deep battalion locks its firm array,

And meditates his aim the marksman light;
Far glance the light of sabres flashing bright,
Where mounted squadrons shake the echoing mead,'
Lacks not artillery breathing flame and night,

Nor the fleet ordnance whirl'd by rapid steed,
That rivals lightning's flash in ruin and in speed.'

LVIII.

A various host-from kindred realms they came, 3
Brethren in arms, but rivals in renown-
For yon fair bands shall merry England claim,

And with their deeds of valour deck her crown.
Hers their bold port, and hers their martial frown,
And hers their scorn of death in freedom's cause.
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!
Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave!
The rugged form may mark the mountain band,
And harsher features, and a mien more grave;
But ne'er in battle-field throbb'd heart so brave,

I

[MS.

"the dusty mead."]

["The landing of the English is admirably described; nor is there any thing finer in the whole poem than the following passage, (stanzas lv., lvi., lvii.,) with the exception always of the three concluding lines, which appear to us to be very nearly as bad as possible."-JEFFREY.]

3 ["The three succeeding stanzas (lviii., lix., Ix.,) are elaborate; but we think, on the whole, successful. They will probably be oftener quoted than any other passage in the poem."-JEFFREY.]

1

As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid;
And when the pibroch bids the battle rave,

And level for the charge your arms are laid,
Where lives the desperate foe that for such onset staid!

LX.

Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy,
His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings,'
And moves to death with military glee:
Boast, Erin, boast them! tameless, frank, and free,
In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known,
Rough Nature's children, humorous as she :

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 vei.
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 !3

{MS.-"His jest each careless comrade round him flings."]

[For details of the battle of Vimeira, fought 21st Aug. 1808 -of Corunna, 16th Jan. 1809-of Talavera, 28th July, 1809-and of Busaco, 27th Sept. 1810-See Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon, (first edition,) volumes vi. and vii., under these dates.]

3

["The nation will arise regenerate;

Strong in her second youth and beautiful,

And like a spirit that bath shaken off
The clog of dull mortality, shall Spain
Arise in glory."- SOUTHEY'S Roderick.]