Iberia Won; A poem descriptive of the Peninsular War / With impressions from recent visits to the battle-grounds, and copious historical and illustrative notes

by T. M. Hughes

A rampart of the brave—of dead and dying!

Thy column, Gaul, advances to the line,

And halts where stern that gory bulwark’s lying,

While Britain’s heroes all their fire combine.

Nor ’mid tremendous showers of death repine

Their wounded comrades smote, since death may bring

The foeman under. Gaul, as drunk with wine,

Reels from excess of slaughter. Forward spring

Our bayonets to the charge. The foe is on the wing!