But, hark the voice of cannon from within!
’Tis raised in joy, a Royal salvo peals.
What new discovery marks that potent din,
Which speaks in thunder that the assailant feels—
Bolts with each flash? For joy the Norman kneels.
Where Mota’s rock above the wave doth frown,
A living fount its bubbling stream reveals,
More prized than diámonds on Regal crown.
The stream is hoarded well—its flow supplies the town.
X.