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

Burning the wounded men who lay in mortal spasm!

X.

And on Busaco’s horrid mountain-crest,

Where topples o’er the crags the convent-tower,

And bayonets bristled o’er the eagle’s nest.

The foeman climbs the steep with wondrous power,

But swift our charging files their host devour,

And down the mountain-side they slaughtered roll.

Massena rash, of valour Ney the flower,

Vainly up wooded dell and pine-clad knoll