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

As Carlos with the pass-word reached the town,

And joyous strolled, while War’s dread fire was slack,

With lovely Isidor the rampart down.

More deep ’neath starry pall ne’er fell Night’s frown,

Nor sank repose on Nature and on man.

But hark the rattling musketry, see crown

Each sharp discharge its flash—ere death brief span.

Homeward, poor maiden lorn, sweet Isidora ran!

XXII.