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

The cannon dire and bombs that burst through every bar.

XXX.

And ’mid this jar confused of noises dire,

And shouts of living soldiers fierce and fell,

The piercing shrieks of wounded men rose higher

Through groans of dying strewn by shot and shell;

And of the fire balls from the citadel

Some lit amongst the helpless wounded, bringing

New pangs where agony too much doth dwell.

See crawling through the blaze, or nervous springing,