Iberia Won 14

Iberia Won 14

XIV.

 

And ever after Blanca bore the name

“La Espingarda,” which her daring told,

And gave the carbine she discharged to fame,

When Innocence was made by Virtue bold.

Oh, selfish were the breast, methinks, and cold,

That would not look with eye of favour there:

Such was the maid who led that Nereid fold,--

Whose loud guitar, in scorn a chain to wear,

Called her compatriot men to guard Iberia fair.

 

 

XV.

 

Thus oft between Isaro’s isle and San

Sebastian Blanca past with fancy free,

Till through her veins Love’s soft infection ran,

And tamed her spirit of wild gaiety.

A gallant youth and fond did Blanca see

’Mongst Albion’s sons who lay the town before.

Of all the host was braver none than he,

And Blanca trembled to her bosom’s core

Beneath his eagle-glance, when love he whispered o’er.

 

 

XVI.

 

Full many a sweet, nor yet delusive tale

He told the maid of mingling heart and hand,

And home and household gods in sweetest vale

Amid the glories of his Motherland,

Of joys that glistened ’neath Hope’s faëry wand,

And life’s long course by Gnidian torches lighted,

Of foreheads pure by milder zephyrs fanned,

And England’s happier clime by war unblighted.

His passion soon declared, their mutual vows were plighted.

 

 

XVII.

 

Hast thou not seen a clear and sparkling rill,

Upon whose ripplings joyous sunbeams quiver,

Flow swift, yet tranquil, from its native hill

Straight to the bosom of some mighty river,--

Its separate existence lost for ever,

Its name, its nature, sunk in the devotion

Of that great confluence? Calm as to the Giver,

Her life she gave, nor struggle nor commotion

Showed where that streamlet flowed, for ever mixed with Ocean.

 

 

XVIII.

 

Morton the youth was named--majestic tall,

For strength and symmetry his shape combined;

Gentle as valiant, generous, loved by all;

A soldier frank, pellucid was his mind,

His judgment sound, his bearing ever kind;

To her ’twas tenderest love that hourly grew.

The pride that scorns unequal lots to bind

In wedlock deeply he contemned, nor knew

A thought that was not all to humbler Blanca true.

 

 

XIX.

 

And Morton from the maiden learnt how soon

Might Santa Clara’s rocky isle be won,

Where batteries planted ere another moon

The siege must end, and Mota’s fortress stun

With many a thunder-voiced o’erpowering gun;

And Blanca promised to the shore to guide.

Swift Morton warm with warlike zeal doth run,

His plans unfolding to his Chief with pride,

And valiant Graham doth give to Morton margin wide.

 

 

XX.

 

Soon were his comrades chos’n, and Nial first,

His bosom-friend, companion oft in arms;

Both of the Light Brigades, and both athirst

For Glory! Nial led ’mid War’s alarms

A file of Rifles. Danger still had charms

For him transcendent; young, as woman fair,

Slight-formed yet lion-brave--his vigour warms

The veteran. Clothed his cheek with beauty rare,

Yet none in all the host so actively would dare.

 

 

XXI.

 

The Spaniards oft declared he was a girl

In male attire, till they beheld his deeds.

The oldest soldiers watched his looks in per’l,

Obeyed his slightest sign, and where he leads

Follow in battle--though the column bleeds.

Yet Nial hath not reached his twentieth year!

Noble and proud is every thought he feeds.

Such was the youth, who Morton counselling clear,

His plans to take the Isle arranged the trenches near.

 

 

XXII.

 

And as they spoke the batteries raised their voice,

From crowned La Mota raining shot and shell,

Drove through the ranks, and made the Gaul rejoice

With many a horrid gap that, ah, could well

Its tale of dire disaster silent tell!

For fragments strewn of gunner and his art

Lay quivering round while fierce the foemen yell.

Dismounted gun, and shattered carriage, chart,

Line, linstock, bullet, corse, were tossed in every part.

 

 

XXIII.

 

“Rey’s petulant to-day,” quoth Nial. Straight

A huge artillery waggon by their side,

That fed our batteries, six strong horses’ freight,

Struck by a shell, up-bounding scattered wide

War’s provender. The missile dumb doth bide--

A minute’s pause of horrible suspense,

That hushed each heart, and paled the cheek of Pride!

Then with explosion terrible, immense,

Its dire contents around were showered in ruin dense.

 

 

XXIV.

 

The riders instant died--three gunners more

Were gravely wounded. Mad with pain and fright,

The horses started off at gallop o’er

The plain, while blazed the waggon with that bright

Combustion. One steed wounded fell outright;

And frantic with the fiery mass each bound

Whirled through the air--the wheels themselves alight--

They dragged both horse and waggon o’er the ground,

Till all was shattered ’mongst Ernani’s orchards found.

 

 

XXV.

 

“Swift--to the Island!” both the friends exclaim;

And as night fell their boats from cove concealed

Beneath Antigua’s convent seaward came;

Full soon with muffled oars that nought revealed,

They lay ’neath Santa Clara’s rocky field;

And Blanca in the crag disclosed a cleft,

Where straight they land. But loud the sent’nel pealed

The alarum gun, its post the picquet left,

And flew like burghers bold to guard from midnight theft.

 

 

XXVI.

 

But soon, o’erpowered by numbers, their array

Was beaten back--resistance now was vain.

Submissively their arms were lowered away,

And o’er their sorrowing breasts a captive chain

Is gently flung: “Our battery soon shall reign

“Triumphant here,” quoth Morton, “thanks to thee,

“Sweet maiden.” Blanca smiled, and cried,--“For Spain!”

Then to her bark once more she bounded free,

And with her Nereids young thus sang and smote the sea:

 

 

The Oar-Song.

 

 

1.

 

Lean to your oars;

Pull along cheerily;

Ne’er let the shores