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

Next instant plunged it. Blood the voice doth smother

Of Carlos—he looks up—and sees, oh God, a brother!

X.

’Twas Jealousy—the scourge of Southern breasts—

Made an unconscious Cain—for deep and true

Fraternal love their bosoms both invests,

And maniac-like the assassin instant grew,

And tore his hair—and raved—then gibbering flew,

Like Clytemnestra’s son by Furies driven.