The rudest sentinel, in Britain born, With horror paused to view the havoc done, Gave his poor crust to feed some wretch forlorn, Wiped his stern eye, then fiercer grasped his gun. Nor with less zeal shall Britain’s peaceful son Exult the debt of sympathy to pay; Riches nor poverty the tax shall shun, Nor prince nor peer, the wealthy nor the gay, Nor the poor peasant’s mite, nor bard’s more worthless lay. VIII. But thou—unfoughten wilt thou yield to Fate, Minion of Fortune, now miscalled in vain! Can vantage-ground no confidence create, Marcella’s pass, nor Guarda’s mountain-chain? Vainglorious fugitive! yet turn again! Behold, where, named by some prophetic Seer, Flows Honour’s Fountain, {164} as foredoomed the stain From thy dishonoured name and arms to clear— Fallen Child of Fortune, turn, redeem her favour here! IX. Yet, ere thou turn’st, collect each distant aid; Those chief that never heard the lion roar! Within whose souls lives not a trace portrayed Of Talavera or Mondego’s shore! Marshal each band thou hast, and summon more; Of war’s fell stratagems exhaust the whole; Rank upon rank, squadron on squadron pour, Legion on legion on thy foeman roll, And weary out his arm—thou canst not quell his soul. X. O vainly gleams with steel Agueda’s shore, Vainly thy squadrons hide Assuava’s plain, And front the flying thunders as they roar, With frantic charge and tenfold odds, in vain! And what avails thee that, for CAMERON slain, Wild from his plaided ranks the yell was given— Vengeance and grief gave mountain-range the rein, And, at the bloody spear-point headlong driven, Thy Despot’s giant guards fled like the rack of heaven. XI. Go, baffled boaster! teach thy haughty mood To plead at thine imperious master’s throne, Say, thou hast left his legions in their blood, Deceived his hopes, and frustrated thine own; Say, that thine utmost skill and valour shown, By British skill and valour were outvied; Last say, thy conqueror was WELLINGTON! And if he chafe, be his own fortune tried— God and our cause to friend, the venture we’ll abide. XII.