XXXVIII.
And pant for glory ’midst their brave compeers
Nial and Morton—keen as curbéd steed.
Though soft their souls in love to melt in tears,
In war they could unmoved see hundreds bleed.
Of passionate fervour was their patriot creed,
And next to Heaven they loved their native land.
With Blanca there to fly, when Spain was freed,
Before the frowning wall young Morton planned,
And murmur thus his lips while waits his eager band:—