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

Upon the gale that hastened swift to bear

The summons to the victims of Despair.

Down fell the oars again, and swift each hand

The green wave lashed, till urged those Nereids fair

Their prows with rival speed upon the strand,

And soon in beauteous file upon the beach they land.

XXXI.

Great Heaven! what is’t? ’Tis she, ’tis Isabel,

That from the midst takes rapidly the lead,

With eager cry of transport. Each full well