While there, with toil and watching worn, The Island warriors wait the morn, And think the hours too slow; Hark!--on the midnight breezes borne Sounds from the vale below! What sounds? No gleam of arms they see, Yet still they hear--What may it be? It is, it is the foe! From every hand and heart and head-- As quick was never lightning sped-- Weakness and weariness are fled; And down the mountain steeps, Along the vale, and through the shade, With ball and bayonet and blade, They seek the foe who dares invade The watch that England keeps. Nor do the dauntless sons of France Idly await the hot advance:-- As active and as brave Thrice rush they on, and thrice their shock Rebounding breaks, as from the rock Is dash’d the wintry wave. IV. But soon the darkling armies blend, Promiscuous death around they send, Foe falls by foe and friend by friend In mingled heaps o’erthrown: And many a gallant feat is done, And many a laurel lost and won, Unwitness’d and unknown;-- Feats, that achieved in face of day, Had fired the bard’s enthusiast lay, And, in some holy aisle, for aye Had lived in sculptured stone. Oh, for a blaze from heaven, to light The wonders of that gloomy fight, The guerdon to bestow, Of which the sullen envious night Bereaves the warrior’s brow! Furious they strike without a mark, Save where the sudden sulphurous spark Illumes some visage grim and dark, That with the flash is gone! And, ’midst the conflict, only know, If chance has sped the fatal blow, Or by the trodden corse below, Or by the dying groan. V. Far o’er the plain, and to the shores Of Teio and Alberche, roars The tumult of the fight; The distant camps, alarmed, arise; And throbbing hearts, and straining eyes Watch, through the dull and vapoury skies, The portents of the night-- The vollying peals, terrific cries, And gleams of lurid light-- But all is indistinct:--in vain The anxious crowds their senses strain, And, in the flash or shout, Fancy they catch the signal plain Of victory or rout:-- The signal dies away again, And the still, breathless crowds remain In darkness and in doubt. VI.