An instant stopt great Arthur on the brow Of that steep mountain. Both the Armies saw The Hero at that moment. Soult was now So near, each rival Chief could plainly draw The lineaments of each that strike with awe Their several hosts: “Now strong,” thought Arthur, “is he, “But cautious. Of that shout he will, some flaw “Suspecting, much inquire; and thus will free “My scattered host, till all combined resistless be.” XXXV. And Soult, indeed, the battle’s shock withheld, Till rose next morning’s sun. But forth he pushed His skirmishers whose fire was keen repelled, Yet not till night was o’er the mountain hushed. For rode the Marshal where Lanz’ torrent gushed, Our whole position cautiously surveying: By deep defile to far Villalba rushed The infant Arga, all around displaying Our troops on every height, for battle fast arraying. XXXVI. Upon a rugged mountain’s craggy crest, A shrine of spotless Mary clustered round The Lusitan battalion. Soult possest With thought of weakness there, where cannon frowned At Zabaldíca, raised Destruction’s sound; But vain its poise ’gainst that enormous height, His shot from lower crags doth back rebound. Powerless his ordnance for Titanian fight, ’Tis Nature’s storm-artillery ushers in the Night! XXXVII. Dumb be your voices while the thunder-chime Peals from Pyrene’s turrets, echoing far. While roar the elements with rage sublime, Hushed be your strife, Pygmæan men of war! See, see, ye tremble at the lightning-scar. Your brands are sheath’d--ye feel as feathers, dust. Away! nor God’s designs profanely mar, Wreaking on brother-forms your gory lust. In vain! France tempts her doom, and England holds her trust! XXXVIII. Next morn the absent corps our army join. Joy to our Chieftain for his guidance true! Sir Pack’s not yet hath come--but Marcaloin Shakes with its onward tramp--though from the view Of hawk-eyed Soult ’tis hid. To battle flew His host, assailing Cole in front and rear. Clausel from the Lanz valley poureth too His skirmishers--the mountain-side they clear; Cole’s left is rapid turned--defeat we now may fear. XXXIX. But sudden rises o’er the mountain’s crest-- What is’t? An army new of warriors dread-- Pack’s corps, whose swift approach by Soult unguest Great Arthur’s eagle-eye to battle led, In place and time where best our ranks are fed. Instant their clattering fire is hostile blended. Cole smites the foeman’s right, whose left too bled From Lusia’s arms; their front, by Pack offended, With violent shock the vale in headlong flight descended. XL.