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

They strain to win the breach, their grisly goal.

Their flashing swords, athirst for Glory’s meed,

Their tossing plumes, the advancing crowd controul,—

And daring like to their’s inspires each warrior soul.

XXVII.

On, on they rush, their line with dead bestrewing,

While Mont ’Orgullo and Santelmo pour

Both shot and shell, the living brave renewing

The venturous rank where heroes fall before.

Up, up the breach they climb, swift mounting o’er