Pine, myrtle mixed,—and forests hair-like gleam
Upon that couchant monster’s spinal arch,—
Still slow the leaguered French recede before our march.
XVII.
What cavalcade through San Sebastian rides?
A Chieftain mighty and a senior grave;
A blooming warrior next his steed bestrides,
Like young Achilles to whom Chiron gave
The Centaur’s mastery. With bounding wave
His light plume dances o’er a maiden fair,