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

The sole survivor he where slaughtered thousands rot!

XXXVII.

Nor war’s dread engines yet have done their worst,

For Mont’ Orgullo still by Rey is held;

And o’er that stronghold falls a doom accurst,

For ere he leave the Castle must be shelled.

Nine days of horror by our cannon knelled

Bring death to our own captives—on the tenth

When Honour, grisly demon’s voice is quelled

By glut of gore, he proudly yields at length,