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 lithe artilleryman and lynx-eyed caçadore.

XVI.

And now the isthmus boasts its battery too;

At shortest range ’tis thundering ’gainst the wall.

Saint John protect thy bastion, or ’twill rue;

Sebastian, guard thy castle, or ’twill fall!

And lo, where shells ascending vertical,

Like iron disc by surest player cast,

Unerring light the townsmen to appal,

And, scattering hundred deaths, with ruin blast