Iberia Won; A poem descriptive of the Peninsular War: With impressions from recent visits to the battle-grounds, and copious historical and illustrative notesHughes, T. M. (Terence McMahon)
History
Iberia Won; A poem descriptive of the Peninsular War: With impressions from recent visits to the battle-grounds, and copious historical and illustrative notes
Hughes, T. M. (Terence McMahon)
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Poetry
“In Sparta I will sing the fight before Cithæron, where the Median
bowmen fell.” For the details of the battle, and of the Trachinian
treason, see Herodotus, _lib._ 7. Pindar does not name Thermopylæ,
but Cithæron being in its immediate neighbourhood would make the
allusion at once intelligible. Pindar with instinctive good taste
prefers the name “Cithæron” to that of “Thermopylæ,” the latter
name, though to us so magnificent, sounding somewhat vulgar to
Greek ears, as indicating the θερμὰ λουτρὰ, or hot-baths from which
it was derived.
XLVII. “That now in spite of Hell she will be free.”
Siasi l’inferno e siasi il mondo armato.
Tasso, _Gerus. Lib._ xiii. 73.
IBERIA WON.
Canto III.
I.
But France though vanquished oft doth oft renew
The assault which British arms alone can quell.
Her columns fresh the wrested prize pursue,
And at the Siérra’s foot their numbers swell.
Exhausted War’s munitions now, so well
Have England’s sons with fire the foeman plied,
And anxious eyes upon their leaders dwell:--
“See, see, brave hearts,” young Morton stoutly cried,
“While rocks like these abound, we’ll guard the mountain’s side!”
II.
And at the word he loosed with might and main
Such stone immense as feigned Æolides
In Orcus tortured flung. Down to the plain
It rolleth bounding with gigantic ease,
The mountain shaking, crashing through the trees,
Dislodging many a smaller granite mass.
Appalled its dire approach the foeman sees.
On, on it rolls, still thundering o’er the grass,
Till in the vale it rests, nor dares the Gaul to pass.
III.
And on the foremost crest our men have now
Full many a rock’s Aiantine volume rolled;
Prepared to hurl them from the mountain-brow,
Their powerful hands this rude artillery hold,
Should thirst of vengeance make the assailants hold.
But men who Death had braved in every form
Of War’s destruction known to them of old,
Before this unfamiliar mountain-storm
Have quailed, and our’s the height all strewn with corses warm.
IV.
O’er Zabaldíca and the torrent Lanz
Frowned a steep hill, where Spain her sons had placed
Beneath Murillo. There the host of France
Its efforts now concentring urged with haste,
And tirailleur and voltigeur embraced
The peak around, while marched Clausel and Reille
Their columns dense along the mountain-waste.
They charged--Pravía stood the shock awhile,
But numbers soon o’erpower Hesperia’s broken file.
V.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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