Yet wise by experience, taught a cautious dread, And rocking still from England’s vigorous blows, A hissing serpent’s more than lion’s head That earth-struck host presented when it rose, And watched the hour to spring upon its foes. First San Sebastian to relieve its aim, Next to redeem lost glory and oppose Our strong advance, upon Pyrene tame The pride that dares its crags, and France preserve from shame. XXIX. See where the couchant giant bristling lies, Pyrene with his mountain sides and hair Of forests dense. His crest doth pierce the skies, His limbs are precipices poised in air, His rugged spine full many a peak doth bear; His ribs, huge ridges, part on either hand, His mouths are deep ravines where torrents tear Through rocks a course to Man that seemeth banned. Yet there our heroes march, their brows by Victory fanned. XXX. At Zabaldíca now with gathering ire The rival armies stand on fearful steeps, Where rocks on rocks are piled like bastions dire, And savage Solitude sublimely sleeps, And Cristovál’s and Lanz’s torrent leaps Adown the valley where Sauróren smiles. The pass to San Sebastian England keeps. There Morton brave and Nial lead their files; And hardy veterans climb those cloudy mountain piles. XXXI. What clattering steed doth gallop fleet as air Through the Lanz valley, making earth to shake ’Neath his hoofs’ thunder? With that horseman dare None ride save one, the noblest, for his sake Light valuing life or limb. Thought-swift they make Sauróren. O’er the mountain crest they see Clausel’s brigades from Zabaldíca take The glen. Leaps from his horse that rider free To the bridge-parapet, and writes full rapidly. XXXII. It is great Arthur, who the varying chance Of mountain-warfare spirit-like doth seize. Cole eagle-eyed and gallant Picton France Would fain cut off; but now our Chief with ease Averts the danger. Rapid as the breeze, Somerset’s charger gallops carrying far His fresh instructions. Dashes through the trees The French light horse--in vain his course they mar, And Arthur tranquil rides, the ascent to him no bar. XXXIII. The Lusitan battalions first descried The advancing Chief, and raised a shout of joy. Uneasy they while distant he doth ride; Their treasure-trove, their gold without alloy! The British legions swift caught up the cry, Which swelled along the line till stern it rose To Battle’s shout appalling fierce the sky-- The shout that tells the breast to Victory goes, The shout that ne’er was heard unmoved by Britain’s foes! XXXIV.