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

With horrid gleam doth light like Hell the town;

The lurid glare its fit reflection meets,

Where many a stream of blood runs crimson down!

Ferocious yell and savage war-whoop crown

The pile of dire disaster. Anguished screams

Of terror shrill the roaring noises drown.

Shrieks turn to groaning where the bayonet gleams,

And murdered Sleep wakes wild from sanguinary dreams.

XXVIII.