Iberia Won 33

Iberia Won 33

 Oh, sleepless eyes and aching foreheads tell

In homes far distant how those lives are prized,

Which now are diced away, though loved so well--

On Glory’s shadowy altar sacrificed!

The heart-wrung sob at parting undisguised,

The silent hall and the deserted bower,

The tender charge of Beauty idolized,

And curléd babes, forgot in this wild hour,--

To Gorgons grim consigned is Manhood’s chosen flower!

 

 

X.

 

What terrible explosion rends the sky?

What fierce combustion wraps in flame the air?

Traverse and curtain tall to ruin fly,

And sulphurous fires the bastioned bulwarks tear

Like rags asunder! Cries of deep despair

Burst from the pale defenders; grenadiers,

Unmoved as rocks till then, in hundreds share

The ramparts’ doom which form their blackened biers;

And rush the stormers in with lustiest British cheers.

 

 

XI.

 

Of volumed smoke at length the eddying wave

Falls o’er the battlement and clears the ground.

Still would the sons of France the fortress save,

Amazed amid the ruin spread around;

But onward to their breasts the assailants bound,

And momently the baffled foemen scare.

They rally--I ween none there hath quarter found;

They stand--and desperate valour all doth dare.

In vain--the stormers rush like lightning to their lair.

 

 

XII.

 

Red as the slaughter which their hands achieved,

The British garb doth smite the foe with awe;

And as our sturdy bowmen Creçy grieved

O’er Gaul’s full-mailéd Knights triumphant saw,

So the strong bayonet deals resistless law;

And fly before that conflict hand to hand

Of bone and muscle, ere a breath they draw,

The sons of France, a wrongful Tyrant’s band,

Who fight not heaven-inspired for Freedom in the land.

 

 

XIII.

 

Unconquered yeomen, England’s strength and pride!

Who ne’er have yet been wanting at her call

Against the world to stand, or dashing ride

’Gainst odds that all but Britons would appal!

For where, brave hearts, doth rise your serried wall

Of adamant, in vain the thunder-scar.

Upon that conquering ground ye stand or fall.

Oh, strenuous arms alike for toil and war,

May ne’er be seen the day when Wrong your might shall mar!

 

 

XIV.

 

Oh, Rank and Dignity! I saw too flies

Spawned in the self-same chamber, sporting gay.

With equal force, on equal wing, they rise

Through the short sunshine of a summer day.

Yet one the other buzzed to keep away,

And flouted oft--intensest scorn revealing,

As telling him below the Knave should stay,

Too far beneath him born for kindly feeling--

One hatched upon the floor, the other on the ceiling!

 

 

XV.

 

Five deadly hours that conflict fell endured;

But onward now the tide of Valour flowing,

Chafed by the long restraint all foaming poured,

The seeds of Death with every wavelet sowing,

And, ah, on Mercy scarce a thought bestowing!

As destrier strong whose mouth with curbing bleeds,

When loosed the rein, doth plunge with eye-ball glowing,

Mad snort, and trampling hoof which Fury speeds,

So dash the stormers in like spurred and panting steeds.

 

 

XVI.

 

A standard floats upon the cavalier.

It is the far-renownéd tricolor,

Whose folds more proudly ne’er have waved than here,

Though many a victor field they’ve fluttered o’er.

Up Nial springs with hand still dripping gore,

And stoutly tears that tyrant-standard down.

Three loud huzzas resound from sky to shore--

Floats in its stead the flag of Leon’s crown.

’Tis ours! And Spain once more is mistress of her town.

 

 

XVII.

 

Thus strove Peleides with the King of Men

For fair Briseïs many a stubborn hour,

And hung War’s chances on the wistful ken

Of her ’mongst all Lyrnessian spoil the flower,

Whose charms drew eyes from Ilion’s loftiest tower.

Thus to Achilles’ arms the maid restored

Was stript o’ the robes that swept Atrides’ bower,

And decked anew in livery of her lord,

To show no tyrant folds should float o’er his adored.

 

 

XVIII.

 

And well too fought thy warriors, Lusitain,

Who, led by Britons, clomb the further breach,

Resolved to strike a vigorous blow for Spain,

And, how their iron fathers strove, to teach:

Afonso, Avíz, Nun’ Alvares--heroes each--

Castro and Albuquerque not quite forgot

By their descendants, dauntless here who reach

And pluck the wreath to wear might be their lot,

If were not all their fire as fitful even as hot.

 

 

XIX.

 

Not thy Fidalgos, withered boughs, I ween,

Nor yet thy Royalty as much despised,

Who fled like hinds when danger crost the scene,

Their cumbrous rank like Manhood ne’er disguised,

Their scutcheoned pomp like carrion fitly prized!

Henceforth shall men for an opprobrium know

The names by chroniclers most idolized,

And choose strong blood Plebeian’s healthier flow,

That scaled Sebastian’s towers while nobles quaked below.

 

 

XX.

 

And Spain her Guerrilleros--Dorian race--

Sent to the conflict with unconquered hearts,

And eyes that Tyranny could ne’er abase,

Unerringly to guide their fiery darts,

Where Vengeance winged with every shot departs.

And hasting to the War, whose sacred cry

Was “Death to the Invader!”, warm while starts

The big round tear from fair Pastora’s eye,

The peasant-soldier thus with Heaven made an ally:--

 

 

The Guerrillero to his Mistress.

 

1.

 

While spin the amber beads

Beneath thy rosy finger,

And nought thy spirit heeds

Save thoughts that Heav’nward linger;

At Isidoro’s shrine,

Upon the floor of marble,

While move thy lips divine,

For me an Ave warble!

 

 

2.

 

And while, the Virgin’s Hours

In softest tones reciting,

You bend the Heav’nly Powers,

Their blessed aid inviting;

Breathe then for me a prayer,

That, moved amidst her splendour,

Our Lady of Vejer

May crown my wishes tender.

 

3.

 

If spirits pure as thine

Weave idly their petition,

What talisman for mine,

To shield it from perdition?

Oh, Mary, thou alone

Canst ope the path before me,

Canst give my heart a tone,

Canst shed a blessing o’er me!

 

4.

 

The Seraph forms are fair,

In Heav’nly chorus swelling,

But thine as well in prayer

Becomes its earthly dwelling.

Thou look’st a clouded Moon,

When veiled for solemn duty;

If thou’rt refused a boon,

Why give thee so much beauty?

 

 

XXI.

 

Oh glorious race, indomitably fierce!

Earth’s peasant-lords, triumphant o’er each shock;

No, not more vain Antæus’ self to pierce,

For sprung, too, from thy soil new strength to mock

Thy foes, like Afric’s giant whom enlock

The arms of Hercules; or liker him,

The Achaian marsh heaved upward like a rock,

Whose hissing heads struck off, still heads more grim

Rose terrible to tear the Invader limb from limb!

 

 

XXII.

 

Five deadly hours that conflict fell did last,

And o’er the scarp now streams the flood of War;

But many a barricade must still be past,

Where dauntless Rey disputes ’gainst Victory’s star,

With feeble garrison that yields each bar,

O’erpowered by numbers though they battled well.

And, vanquished soon by Fate, entrenched they are

In Mont’ Orgullo, where both shot and shell

Pours on the brave resolved their lives to dearly sell.