The haughty people of Spain ran to arms to expel the foreign garrisons. England loudly cheered on the furies of insurrection in the Peninsula, and sent Sir Arthur Wellesley, in 1808, with an army of 9000 men to coöperate with the Spaniards. When he reached Corunna he found that the Junta, relying upon the strength of the patriots, were not desirous to receive the troops. But they advised the general to proceed to Portugal and attempt to drive the French from that country, which they had likewise occupied. Sir Arthur proceeded to Mondego Bay, a little to the north of Lisbon, then garrisoned by the French. It was of this landing that Sir Walter Scott sung, in his “Vision of Don Roderick:” “It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight: The billows foamed beneath a thousand oars, Fast as they land, the red-cross ranks unite, Legions on legions brightening all the shores. Then banners rise, the cannon-signal roars, Then peels the warlike thunder of the drum, Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet’s flourish pours, And patriot hopes awake and doubts are dumb, For, bold in Freedom’s name, the bands of ocean come.” Sir Arthur repulsed the French in the engagement of Rolica. He also beat them at the battle of Vimiera, during which Sir Harry Burrard, his superior in command, arrived on the ground; but left the honor of the day to Wellesley. Junot, Duke of Abrantes, then sent a flag of truce and offered to evacuate Portugal. The convention of Cintra followed, signed by Sir Hew Dalrymple, Sir H. Burrard and Wellesley, on the part of England; and the French army was sent home in British vessels. This treaty was vehemently denounced in England, and public opinion pelted the three generals. Byron alludes to the matter in Childe Harold: “Convention is the dwarfish demon styled That foiled the knights in Marialva’s dome Of brains, if brains they had he them beguiled And turned a nation’s shallow joy to gloom.” Byron was mistaken in supposing the treaty was signed in the house of the Marquis of Marialva. Another and a greater disaster was mourned, soon after, in England. Sir John Moore who had marched, at the close of 1808, at the head of a small army into the heart of Spain, where he was disappointed in the Spanish assistance he expected, and threatened with destruction by the victorious French armies who had taken Madrid, began his disastrous retreat of 250 miles toward the sea, and arrived, at last, at Corunna, where his harassed and tormented spirit found rest. “Slowly and sadly they laid him down From the field of his fame fresh and gory; They carved not a line, they raised not a stone, But they left him alone with his glory.”