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

Fly, passion, hate, ’neath Mercy’s sheltering wing—

Hath not the Lord declared: “Revenge is mine?”

Reptile, dost Him defy? Not thus will shine

Thy courage when, at dissolution’s hour,

The more thou scornest now the more thou’lt whine,

And feel no weed that deems itself a flower

So mean as man who dares to brave the Almighty’s power!

XXXIV.

From Haya’s crest of rough and broken crag

A darkling thunder-storm came grandly down.