To celebrate the lofty deeds of Spain:
From her proud neck as beating, broken off,
The barbarous yoke; the conqueror in turn
Conquer’d on the burning sands of Libya:
Numantia with the miseries appeased,
Proud Rome was doom’d to know, abandon’d prey
To frightful military outrages:
Cortes, in the valley of Otumba,
Lord of the golden standard, at his feet
The sceptre of the West! but angrily,