John tired, and anxious, now began to grumble, The cursed, rugged Road, made Dobbin stumble; Some sad mishap his senses now forebodes, When Teague exclaims, ‘These are the Devil’s own Roads!’ Now from a Cliff they view’d a Gulph below, Where Tagus sternly midst the Rocks did flow, A narrow path they follow’d, jam’d with stones, John, Dobbin led, and trembled for his bones: Scrambling, & straggling, step from Ridge to Ridge; At length, the danger passed, they reach’d the Bridge. Now on their Route we find them each day gaining, But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas’d complaining; Grown used to suffer Insolence and Pillage In every beastly town and dirty Village; To see Religion made the tool of Knaves; To crush morality, and nourish Slaves. As now to Salamanca near John drew, Pleas’d that to Portugal he’d bid adieu, Was told to hasten--there might be a Fight, The Hostile foes were in each other’s sight: With British ardour thrilling thro’ each vein; Urged by an impulse nothing could restrain. John’s soul was meek, but he felt in truth With all the bashful modesty of Youth; From his blest native Soil he did inherit A bold, determined mind, and active spirit; Nought could his zealous energy oppose, He’d join his Reg’ment, and he’d face its Foes-- Boldly push’d on to share in the Attack, And found the brave King’s Own in _Bivouac_.[19] All here to John appear’d both strange, and new, He knew not what to say, nor what to do; Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,-- Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost. Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood, Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood. And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap, In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep. And now a crowd of Officers he sees, On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease. John went to seek the Officer Commanding: An Officer replied, ‘Sir, there he’s standing.’ John now with modesty reveal’d his Name, Told him the Rank he held, and how he came. [Illustration: _Introduced to his Colonel._]