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

High on the greater breach where hours before

Had swept the wave of battle, ’neath the black

And murky cope, which flashed red lightnings o’er,

A maiden stood alone in murder’s track,

A white-robed angel seemed ’mid general wrack,

And to and fro amid the heaps of slain,

And round and round and forward then and back,

Peered in each pallid face War’s iron rain

Had shattered there, and passed like Judgment in Death’s train.