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

And gnawed like Ugolino. Why thus bent

On slaughter? For a grain of chaff the strife;

I thought of human blood inglorious spent

In private feud for straws with quarrel rife,

And deadly weapons aimed at God’s best gift of life!

XVII.

But, hark! the din of slaughter; hark! the scream

Of virgin innocence and matron shame.

Of Spain’s defenders see the bayonets gleam,

And lust and plunder the defender’s aim!