And when the eye of England’s glorious Chief, Great Arthur, fell with favour on the youth, And praise he spoke in stirring words though brief, Such as with thought impregnate all and truth It was his wont to utter, Envy’s tooth Of calumny to silence proudly shaming, Beat Nial’s heart, and soldiers all uncouth Felt tears well nigh to flow, the stripling naming So loved by all, their hearts with gentlest Valour taming. XLII. And Nial thought upon his Isabel, For all his proudest feelings centred there, Prophetic that the maid he loved so well The praise would echo sweetly, smiling fair; And while his brow a loftier plume doth wear Through glory for that day’s achievements done, With her he thought the joyous fruits to share, With her to feel the glow of Victory’s sun, For still for her and Spain was Freedom’s battle won. XLIII. Now our’s the Bidasóa, our’s the Rhune, And Bayonnette, and Commissari too. Oh France! thy fields shall now be entered soon, For at our feet the fair Nivelle doth flow. Saint Jean de Luz, thy vesper-lights below O’erhang the Gascon gulf. Invasion’s tread Hath passed thy border, yet no sound of wo Shall rend thy sky, thy homes shall mourn no dead, For Justice now humane with Britain’s arms is wed. XLIV. The wail of San Sebastian reached thy heart, Great Arthur, and provoked the stern command, Which none may dare dispute. The conqueror’s part Shall Mercy temper in the Gaulish land. Now on Pyrene’s farthest summit stand Thy legions bolder than e’er Cæsar’s arm To victory marshalled. Every crag was manned By arméd foes, yet quelled is War’s alarm Through Spain, such Valour’s power, such godlike Freedom’s charm! XLV. But mourn the brave who nobly fighting fell Upon Pyrene’s mountains, mourn the brave Whose breasts were pierced, where strove those bosoms well, And, ah, too oft have found not e’en a grave! For o’er those pathless solitudes the wave Of War hath rolled, and ’mid those regions vast Full many a wounded man, with none to save, Hath sighed his aidless death-groan to the blast, And vultures strip the bones which Heaven will clothe at last! HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES TO CANTO X.