“Such Spaniards were—in days long past away—
Who drove the Invader forth, nor asked for aid.
I need not speak what Spaniards are to-day.
Oh, let not Britons thus the Basque o’ershade.
At least be drawn Bilbáo’s trusty blade!”—
Flushed many a cheek, “Las armas!” was the cry.
With hasty-buckled swords the high-souled maid,
And firelocks true, soon saw them gathering nigh,
And ’neath the sacred oak flashed many a warlike eye: