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. Li. And whomsoe'er along the dath yon meet Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, Which tells whom to shnn and whom to greet: 9 you 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 cannon's smoke. LI. At every turn Morena's dusky height The holstered steed beneath the shed of thatch 1) LII. Portend the deeds to come :-but he whose nod A little moment deigneth to delay: Soon will his legions sweep through these their way; LIII. And must they fall? the young, the proud, the brave, No step between submission and a grave? The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain? 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? LIV. Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused, And she, whom once the semblance of a scar The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead Stalks with Minerva's step, where Mars might quake to tread. LV. Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, Thin the closed ranks, and lead in glory's fearful chase. LVI. Her lover sinks-she sheds no ill-timed tear; Her fellows flee-she checks their base career What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost, Foiled by a woman's hand, before a battered wall? II LVII. Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons, But formed for all the witching arts of love: sons, Thongh thus in arms they emulate her And in the horrid phalanx dare to move, In softness as in firmness far above Remoter females, famed for sickening prate; Her mind is nobler sure, her charms perchance as great. LVIII. 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! LIX. Match me, ye climes! which poets love to laud; Match me, ye harams of the land! where now Beauties that ev'n a cynic must avow; Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce allow To taste the gale lest Love should ride the wind, t His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind. LX. Oh, thou Parnassus ! 13 whom I now survey, But soaring snow-clad through thy native sky, In the wild pomp of mountain majesty ! The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by Would gladly woo thine echoes with his string, Though from thy heights no morejone Muse will wave her wing, LXI. 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. I tremble, and can only bend the knee j Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar, In silent joy to think at last I look on thee! |