Iberia Won 9

Iberia Won 9

XIV.

 

And sally forth the warlike sons of France,

As prisoned lions vainly lash the bar,

To foil the miner in his bold advance,

And rages on the isthmus fiercest war;

Full many a shrapnell shell doth strew afar

Its withering shower of lead in thickest hail.

But what can like the British bayonet mar

Thy prowess, France? Before ’t the sallyers quail,

And fly like scattered hawks flung headlong on the gale.

 

 

XV.

 

With glancing steel upon the trenches’ edge

Confronted Cameron the advancing host;

And swift retired before that gleaming wedge

The light-limbed chasseur, battling Gallia’s boast.

And, rough fascine and earth-piled gabion most

The ground demanding, rose the isthmus o’er

Banquette and parapet, the foremost post

Of war for those who sap and mine explore,

And lithe artilleryman and lynx-eyed caçadore.

 

 

XVI.

 

And now the isthmus boasts its battery too;

At shortest range ’tis thundering ’gainst the wall.

Saint John protect thy bastion, or ’twill rue;

Sebastian, guard thy castle, or ’twill fall!

And lo, where shells ascending vertical,

Like iron disc by surest player cast,

Unerring light the townsmen to appal,

And, scattering hundred deaths, with ruin blast

The region doomed where’er that tempest dire hath past.

 

 

XVII.

 

See many a bark that swan-like floats the tide

Steal rapid round the fair Cantabrian shore.

Daughters of luxury, your frail heads hide!

’Tis women’s arms that ply the lusty oar

That hostile castle’s bristling wall before.

A patriot impulse bids them proudly dare

(Was never seen the like!) the batteries’ roar,

Their fruits and wine with the besiegers share,

And bless the arms upraised to guard Iberia fair!

 

 

XVIII.

 

Isaro’s sunlit isle her dark-eyed maids

Sends laden with the grape’s delicious bloom;

Guerníca from its close embowering shades

Sends clustered muscatel whose globes illume

Bright tints of amber. Ondarróa’s gloom

Of archéd boughs gives golden apples forth,

Fair as on Hesperus’ dragon drew the doom;

Ripe Ceres’ gifts of Deba prove the worth;

And bland Zumaya opes her garden of the north.

 

 

XIX.

 

Brown nuts and almonds from Cestona’s groves,

Soft melons come from Castro’s silvery streams;

The small black olive that the mountain loves

From Orrio’s hills ’mid peach and nectarine gleams.

Palencia sends her wine which most esteems

The midnight watcher on the tented field,

With blissful thoughts to stimulate his dreams

When, the watch ended, soon his eyes are sealed

By Heaven’s physician, sleep, and all his sorrows healed.

 

 

XX.

 

Berméo’s vines of green most tender send

Black clusters soft with purple bloom bespread;

And where her gnarled and twisted fig-trees bend

’Neath load of luscious fruit their dark green head,

The gathered treasure for a feast is shed.

The quince sweet-flavoured, and the juicy gourd,

The beautiful love-apple coral-red,

And curd-white cheese (an Arcady restored)

For Valour’s sons they bring to spread the ambrosial board.

 

 

XXI.

 

Bright-eyed Biscayan maids, as shapely tall

As Atlas’ daughter in her sun-lit isle

Led in the dance through flowery vale and knoll,

Mother of streams while Tethys fair the while

The chorus blest with an approving smile.

The lively movements of the Vascon race,

The Tartar glance, the ringing laugh where guile

Ne’er enters, brown yet blooming charms of face,

And teeth of dazzling lustre lend uncommon grace.

 

 

XXII.

 

Their hair dark shining shamed the raven’s wing,

In tresses long their shoulders floating down,

With ribands gay confined or silken string,

Or slight embroidered veil the head to crown.

Of gold and pearl some covet the renown,

Pendent from prettiest ears; with coral some

Their necks encircle. Camisoles each gown

Surmount, gallooned with silk or silver from

Shoulder to waist so fair that Envy’s self is dumb.

 

 

XXIII.

 

’Twas thus the Basque barqueras, happiest race,

Like their Cantabrian mothers rowed along;

A nymph-republic from whose dwelling-place

Both man and dame excludes the Nereid throng,

True to their Ocean-sire, as Dian strong.

Two row each bark, and one Dorina steers

’Neath fluttering banderoles, and oft with song

They tune their oars, or dance with merry cheers

Zorcícos, while Basque drum and timbrel greet the ears.

 

 

XXIV.

 

And oft, through summertide, some sheltered cove

On fair Biscaya’s coast these Nereids sought

To cool their lovely limbs, while far above

A sister-sentinel their safety wrought,

With eyes whose jealousy was still uncaught.

And through the crystal waters joyously

Spinning, like ivory, charms surpassing thought,

They plunged and sported, laughing wild with glee,

And swam with matchless skill--their element the sea.

 

 

XXV.

 

And, robed again, full oft the Nymphs advanced

’Neath dewy eve in beauteous double file,

And boundingly the gay Zorcíco danced,

With shouldered oars and frolic feet, the while

Basque drum and tamborine and Ocean’s smile

Make mirthful holiday. Now high they leap,

With mazy figure now the sense beguile,

Now cross their clattering blades as in the deep,

And laugh, dance, sing--methinks, ’tis better thus than weep.

 

 

XXVI.

 

Nor vigilance secures that lovely coast,

Nor danger’s tremulous excitements flee,

For Gaul her cruisers and her arméd host

From fair Santona pours along the sea;

And even Columbian rovers, far too free

To curb the lust of plunder, hovering there--

Indifferent whether Spain’s or England’s be

The rifled flag--like vultures foul prepare

On battle’s skirt to fall, and aidless stragglers tear.

 

 

XXVII.

 

For years had past since great Britannia’s hand

Made Earth and Ocean feel her trident stroke;

And Trafalgár and San Vicente, fanned

By Victory’s wing, no present terrors woke;

Nor o’er the Deep her voice in thunder spoke,