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

Flies free o’erhead the cataract’s foaming tide,

And scarce crystálline globule o’er him runs:

Thus stand ’neath Death o’erarched Britannia’s dauntless sons!

III.

“Retire!” was first the cry. “A traitorous foe!

Our batteries’ fire is ’gainst the stormers turned;”

And struck a straggling shot the ranks below;

But Nial and his men the counsel spurned.

To win, whate’er the cost, their bosoms burned;