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

Even lingering here is death! As rankest soils

Are strown with richest growths, the valiant strew

That gory Scylla’s crest. Charybdis boils

With vortex under. What may heroes do?

Advance? In vain. Recede? No, Britons’ hearts be true!

XXXI.

Up climbs a multitude of strenuous men,

Who thick as forest-leaves autumnal fall,

So keen for entrance to the lion’s den,

Not death at every footstep can appal!