His Guerrilleros ’neath that Chief adored
’Gainst the marauding Gaul have battled well.
And at Baigorri hark where grandly swell
The war-notes of Castile, while rush the wild
Partidas ringing many a Norman’s knell;
And sweep from France the forage she hath piled
On Spanish soil profaned, from stall and sheepfold mild.
IV.
Unconsciously the lowing herds resent
Their change of masters, rudely by the horn