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Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host,
Here the bold peasant stormed the dragon's nest;

Still does he mark it with triumphant boast,
And points to yonder cliffs, which oft were won and lost,

L. .
And whomsoe’er along the dath yon meet = 0
Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,
Which tells you whom to shan and whom to greet: g
Woe to the man that walks in public view
Without of loyalty this token true:

Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke; . And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue,

If subtle poinards , wrapt beneath the cloke, Could blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the eannon's smoke.



At every turn Morena's dusky height
Sustains aloft the battery's iron load;
And, far as mortal eye can compass sight,
The mountain-howitzer, the broken road,
The bristling palisade, the fosse o'er-flowed ,
The stationed bands , the never-vacant watch,
The magazine in rocky durance stowed, .. .

The holstered steed beneath the shed of thatch 1)
The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match , 10

LII. . .
Portend'the deeds to come :- but he whose nod
Has tumbled feepler despots from their sway
Amoment pauseth ere he lifts the rod;
A little moment deigneth to delay :
Soon will his legions sweep through these their way;
The west must own the scourger of the world,
Ah! Spain ! how sad will be thy reckoning-day,

When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings unfurled ,
And thou shalt yiew thy sons in crowds to Hades hurled.

And must they fall? the young , the proud, the brave,
To swell one bloated chief's unwholesome reign?
No step between submission and a grate?
The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain?
And doth the power that man adores ordain 10
Their doom , nor heed the suppliant's appeal?
Is all that desperate Valour acts in vain ?

And counsel sage, and patriotic zeal,
The veteran's skill, youth’s fire, and manhood's heart of steel?

Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused,
Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,
And, all unsexed, the Anlace hath espoused,
Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war?

And she, whom once the semblance of a scar
Appalled, an owlet's larum chilled with dread,
Now views the column-scattering bay’net jar,

The falchion flash, and o'er the / yet warm dead
Stalks with Minerva’s step, where Mars might quake to tread.

Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale,
Oh! had you known her in her softer hour,
Marked her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil,
Heard her light, lively tones in lady's bower,
Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power,
Her fairy form, with more than female grace,
Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower

Beheld her smile in danger's Gorgon face,
Thin the closed ranks, and lead in glory's fearful chase.

Her lover sinks she sheds no ill-timed tear;
Her chief is slain-she fills his fatal post;
Her fellows flee---she checks their base career
The foe retires—she heads the sallying host :
Who can appease; like her, a lover's ghost ?
Who can avenge so well, a leader's fall ?
What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost,

Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul,
Foiled by a woman's hand, before a battered wall? 11

Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons, ; .
But formed for all the witching arts of love: "
Thongh thus in arms they emulate her sons, ...
And in the horrid phalanx dare to move,
'Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove
Pecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate:
In softness as in firmness far above

Remoter females, famed for sickening prate;
Her mind is nobler sure, her charms perchance as great.

The seal love's dimpling finger hath impressed
Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch : 12
Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest,
Bid man be valiant ere he merit such: ".. ..
Her glance how wildly beautiful ! how much
Hath Phoebus woo'd in vain to spoil her cheek,
Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch !

Who round the north for paler dames would seek ?
How , poor their forms appear! how languid, wan, and weak!

Match me, ye climes ! which poets love to laud;
Match me , ye harams of the land ! where now
I strike my strain, far distant', to applaud
Beaulies that ev'n a cynic must ayow;


Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce allost
To taste the gale lest Love should ride the wind,
With Spain's dark-glancing daughters--deign to know,

There your wise Prophet's paradise we find,
His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind. .

se 9: Tiit":0.0,5 -1,34;...:: .
Oh, thou Parnassus ! 13 whom I now survey,
Not in the phrenzy of a dreamer's eye,
Not in the fabled landscape of a lay','
But soaring snow-clad through thy nalive sky,
In the wild pomp of mountain majesty!
What marvel if I thus essay to sing?
The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by - ..'
Would gladly woo thine echoes with his string, ;?
Though from thy heights no morefone Muse will wave her wing,

LXI. : i'. '.. .
Oft have I dreamed of thee ! whose glorious name
Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore:
And now I view thee, 'tis, alas ! with shame
That I in feeblest accents must adore.
When I recount thy worshippers of yore
I tremble , and can only bend the knee;
Nor raise my voice , nor vainly dare to soar, .

But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy
In silent joy to think at last I look on thee !

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