His shattered legions into fragments fall,
So well her grape and musketry she plies;
And torn his summons to surrender lies.
This—this her answer:—‘We have sworn beneath
‘Our country’s ruins buried, ere shall rise,
‘A foreign standard here, to yield our breath,’
And France her flag withdrew all dark with hues of death.
XVIII.
“In Santandér Luarca’s mitred head—