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 array of War, and know nor shame nor fears,

A plundering pathway hew thro’ havoc, blood, and tears.

XXXIX.

Still roars the volleying thunder. Dost not feel

Appalled, thou villain, by that lightning-flash,

Nor dream when brandishing thy dripping steel,

That crimes like thine the Eternal arm will lash?

Doth not that thunder-clap thine eye abash?

For not more fell was Attila than thou;

Not Alaric’s self, whose Visigothic clash