At length the moment comes, when Death extends His pale and horrid hand, to signalize Great victims. Brave Alcedo to him bends, And nobly Moyua, with Castanios, dies. And Alcalà, Churruca, also ye! Of Betis and Guipuzcoa the pride. O! if Fate knew to spare, would it not be Enough to soothe, upon your brows allied Minerva’s olive with Mars’ laurels seen? From your illustrious and inquiring mind What could the world, or stars, their mysteries screen? Of your great course the traces left behind The Cyclades are full, nor less the seas Of far America. How seeks to mourn, New tears from her sad heart her grief to appease, The widow’d land such heroes from her torn; And still she sheds them o’er your cruel fate. O! that ye two could live, and I in place Of grief, of sorrowing song, to consecrate To you the funeral accents that I raise, Might have opposed my bosom to the stroke, And thus my useless life my country give! That I might thus your cruel lot revoke, To bear the wounds, so that ye two might live! And she might proudly raise her front anew, Victorious crown’d with rays of glory bright, Her course ’gainst arduous fortune to pursue, Triumphant in your wisdom and your might. Yet fell ye not, ye generous squadrons! there, Without revenge and slaughter. Spreading wide, Rivers of English blood your powers declare. And Albion also horror-struck descried Mountains of bodies weigh, a heavy pile, On her so proud Armada. Nelson, too! Terrible shade! O, think not, no, that vile My voice to name thee, e’er an insult threw On thy last sigh. As English I abhor, But hero I admire thee. O, thy fate! Of captive ships a crowd, the spoils of war, The Thames awaits, and now exults elate To hail with shouts the conqueror’s return! But only pale and cold beholds her Chief! Great lesson left for human pride to learn, And worthy holocaust for Spanish grief.