Lives there a bustard on your hills to endure
A foreign vulture in its cuckoo nest?
Perchance your nests are warmer—ye know best!
Not bustards dwell upon each mountain peak,
But royal eagles none may dare molest,
For piercing are their talons, sharp their beak—
’Tis Biscay’s men alone are pliable and meek!
IX.
“’Tis said and sung—but History doubtless lies—