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

Of thy sweet face i’ the Moon—nay, curb thy vain alarm!

XVII.

“’Tis her’s I see in thine—her angel face

In thee depictured. In the moonlight stand,

I pray thee, Isabel.”—On that lone place

The sound of oars and voices from the strand

Fell—’tis the Basque barqueras come to land;

And straight they fill the cave, where from the storm

They seek retreat. Amazed the Nereid band

Behold the frayle’s and the maiden’s form;