XXXIX. Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands, 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. XL. By heaven! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mixed 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. XLI. Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice; Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high, That fights for all, but ever fights in vain, And fertilize the field that each pretends to gain. XLII. There shall they rot-Ambition's honoured fools! By myriads, when they dare to pave their way ?-a dream alone. XLIII. Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief! As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim pricked his steed, A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed! Thy name shall circle round the gaping throng, XLIV. Enough of Battle's minions! let them play Their game of lives, and barter breath for fame : Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay, Though thousands fall to deck some single name. In sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim Who strike, blest hirelings! for their country's good, And die, that living might have proved her shame ; Perished, perchance, in some domestic feud, Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path pursued. XLV. Fall swiftly Harold wends his lonely way XLVI. But all unconscious of the coming doom, And young-eyed lewdness walks her midnight rounds: Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls. XLVII. Not so the rustic-with his trembling mate Ah, monarchs! could ye taste the mirth ye mar, The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet! *** XLVIII. How carols now the lusty muleteer? >> As whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer, His quick bells wildly jingling on the way? No! as he speeds, he chaunts: « Viva el Rey! And checks his song to execrate Godoy, The royal wittol Charles, and curse the day When first Spain's queen beheld the black-eyed boy, And gore-faced Treason sprung from her adulterate joy. XLIX. On yon long, level plain, at distance crowned Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host Here the bold peasant stormed the dragon's nest ; Still does he mark it with triumphant boast, And points to yonder cliffs, which oft were won and lost. L. And whomsoe'er along the path you meet, Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet: Woe to the man that walks in public view Without of loyalty this token true : Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke; And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue, If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke, Could blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the cannon's smoke. LI. At every turn Morena's dusky height The holstered steed beneath the shed of thatch, LII. Portend the deeds to come :-but he whose nod A little moment deigneth to delay : Soon will his legions sweep through these their way; LIII. And must they fall? the young, the proud, the brave, And doth the power that man adores ordain The veteran's skill, youth's fire, and Manhood's heart of steel? |