Iberia Won 19

Iberia Won 19

But France not yet retires, for on this day

Pyrené’s fate and her’s will be decided.

Though, man ’gainst man, their courage melts away,

The charge by Gaulish chiefs again is guided--

Again the powers of Fate and Death derided!

Thrice the assault’s renewed, and thrice each chief

His wearied men doth onward drag to bide it.

In vain! The British shock makes contest brief.

Faint, spiritless, abashed, the foemen seek relief.

 

 

VII.

 

And Gaul, her infantry thus forced to yield,

Now tries the onset of her dashing horse;

And charging through the valley shakes the field

With thunderous gallop, trampling fallen horse

And writhing wounded men without remorse.

Our bold hussars beside the river’s edge

With flaming carbines they would backward force;

Their chargers’ strength they wield like potent wedge,

And strive to urge our men adown the rocky ledge.

 

 

VIII.

 

Our fiery squadrons standing in reserve

Now join the mêlée, flashing fast around

Pistol and carbine--then with powerful nerve

They bathe their swords in blood at every bound,

While ’neath the shock terrific quakes the ground.

See, where yon huge heart-piercéd rider falls;

His horse affrighted at the clattering sound

Drags him by th’ foot which still the stirrup thralls,

Till Death arrests them both ’mid storm of flying balls.

 

 

IX.

 

Oh, generous, strong, and fleet are England’s steeds,

And mettled high their riders even as they!

Though with the cavalier the horse too bleeds,

Yet horse and cavalier have won the day.

Two Gaulish chiefs have perished in the fray.

To the streamlet edge the foe is backward driven;

With spur deep-plunged he leaps the stream--away!

But many a jaded horse his life hath given

Headlong adown the bank, where rider too is riven.

 

 

X.

 

On every side now Britain’s foes repelled

Feel that to stand before her might is vain;

Our strong position is securely held--

Lords of the mountain, masters of the plain

From Vascongada’s frontier to the main.

Our batteries planted on the bloody hill

Before the Virgin’s shrine their death-shot rain

From far Illurdos to Elcano’s rill,

From towering Cristovál to Oricain at will.

 

 

XI.

 

But D’Erlon hath concentred all his force,

And seeks, by steep Buenza, Hill to crush.

O’erpowering numbers urge their onward course,

And Hill retires--but not till he doth hush

The fire of D’Armagnac with torrent rush.

By Lecumberri Soult essays a path

To San Sebastian through our line to push.

But eye more keenly sure great Arthur hath,

And breaks the foe’s design with counter-stroke of wrath.

 

 

XII.

 

With rapid steps Zubiri Picton gains;

His skirmishers molest Foy’s shattered flank.

From Zabaldíca’s crest Foy sees the plains

Strewn with the flower of many a fallen rank.

But powerless he for aid--the bayonet drank

Upon the hill the life-blood of his corps,

Where before Cole’s assault his veterans sank,

While gallant Inglis down the mountain o’er

Clausel and Conroux falls with shock that frights them sore.

 

 

XIII.

 

And headlong from the Sierra Byng, too, comes

To where Maucune the smiling village keeps.

Our cannon from the height the ear benumbs;

The bullets crash where that Arcadia sleeps,

And many a peasant for his Lares weeps.

Along the valley booms the thunderous sound;

And quivering child and pallid virgin creeps

For shelter to the mountain-caves around,

While swells the demon-strife, and death-shot ploughs the ground.

 

 

XIV.

 

Sauróren bridge where late great Arthur wrote

His rapid mandate o’er the torrent’s fall,

The deep Lanz valley by the thunder smote,

The hills above, the blooming village--all

Are covered o’er with dense, sulphureous pall;

And musketry its sharp and rattling peal

Incessant echoes ’gainst the mountain-wall.

While fills the glen tumultuous shot and steel,

The volumed smoke can scarce the form of death reveal.

 

 

XV.

 

Sauróren’s won! The Gallic host is broken,

And thousand prisoners own our conquering hand;

Disarmed and guarded well in Victory’s token,

But nobly used as fits a generous land.

Gaul’s columns fly in many a scattered band

To Urtiága’s pass and Ostiz’ steep,

By Lusia’s sons pursued with flaming brand.

But, ah, Sauróren’s maids and matrons weep,

For from the Virgin’s shrine did many a death-bolt leap!

 

 

XVI.

 

As mariners who on a stormy sea

The magnet lose that guides them o’er the wave;

As warriors marshalled oft to victory,

Who lose the sacred banner of the brave:

So with their tears these mountain-children lave

Lanz’ trodden glen; for, ah, the diadem

That girds the Virgin’s brow no more shall save.

Death rained on Lanz beneath each sparkling gem.

A Madre de Dolór is Mary now to them!

 

 

XVII.

 

Night falls around--in dark and dense defile

Nial and Morton with their gallant host,

Where even by daylight rarest sunbeams smile,

In Leron’s frightful wilderness are lost.

By frowning precipice, through crags high-tost

By earthquakes old--through forests grimly black,

Like ghosts they wandered, crost and then re-crost,

Nor pathway saw to forward move or back,

Nor means of exit found, nor even a desert-track.

 

 

XVIII.

 

“Cheer up, my friends,” said Nial; “whom the foe

“Hath ne’er made flinch the forest shall not quell.

“Full many a pine-branch waves at hand to show

“The way--no torch so fitly or so well.”

Then many a pine-branch torn, with resinous smell

Told of its fiery aliment--the flash

Of muskets gave them kindling.--Through the dell,

Waving on high these flaming brands they dash,

And to their comrades shout who tempt the forest rash.

 

 

XIX.

 

Thus on they moved through thicket, glen, and brake,

By precipice, and crag, and torrent brink,

And yawning chasm that made the boldest quake,

Till without end the dark ravine they think;

And wildered many a foot by flaming link,

That guided few save them the links who bore: