“Here sit, my children,” grave Salustian said,
“While Spain’s disasters from their primal source
I briefly trace, and ’midst these horrors dread
Relief pursue by patriot discourse;
For at each shriek my voice doth lose its force,
And highest deeds recounting may sustain
The fainting spirit. Ah! my throat is hoarse,
And parched my lips with heat—to speak yet fain—
Would I had never lived to see this day for Spain!
XXX.