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

She melts in tears which joy and sorrow share;

In kisses o’er her hand his soul was cast,

The hastening cavalcade to Fuéntarabia past.

XXIV.

Now War his direful tasks again pursues

O’er rugged steep and castled crag sublime;

And, Gaul, thy fields no longer sacred lose

The conquering fame that propt Invasion’s crime.

The mountain-barriers of thy Southern clime

No more shall serve as bulwarks for thy soil,