And drove them in dismay towards the North.
Burgos blown up, Pencorva forc’d to yield,
Nor check’d their flight ’till reach’d Vittoria’s Field.
Whilst o’er the Mountains, Bands of Spaniards[100] prowl,
With little order, and with less controul;
While desolation o’er their Country spread,
The High-toned Blood, the Warlike soul was fled;
Whate’er the Cause, the Motive, or the Reason,
By Fraud, by Threats, by Artifice, or Treason,
Whilst Hosts on Hosts did in succession grow,