Your blood more potent than Hyantian seed
Sprung arméd men still fiercer death to scorn
Than Thebæ saw. Incomparable deed!
Ye braved the Lion’s roar—your wounds Iberia freed.
IX.
“For though the sabre clove, the charger trod,
The scattering grape-shot mowed your dense array,
Daïz, Velarde gave their souls to God
In no unprospering cause that gallant day!