POETRY. A*5 



XII. 



Lord of Conquest, heir of Fame, 

 From rescued Portugal he came. 

 Rodrigo's walls in vain oppose; 

 In vain thy bulwarks, Badajoz ; 

 And Salamanca's heights proclaim 

 The Conqueror's praise, the Wellesley's name. 

 Oh, had the sun stood still that hour. 

 When Marmont and his broken power 

 Fled from their field of shame ! 

 Spain felt thro' all her realms the electric blow ; 

 Cadiz in peace expands her gates again ; 

 And Betis, who to bondage long resign'd, 

 Flow'd mournfully along the silent plain. 

 Into her joyful bosom unconfin'd. 

 Receives once more the treasures of the main. 



XIII. 



The fame of that victorious fight 

 Reviv'd the spirit of the farthest North ; 

 And England in auspicious hour put forth 

 Her whole unshackled might. 

 With her in many a field approv'd, 



The Lusitanian legions mov'd : 



Nor longer now did grateful Spain 



Disdain her willing sons to see 



By England train'd to victory. 



Patient av?hile their force the Hero nurst. 



Then like a torrent from the hills he burst. 



XIV. 



What now shall check the Wellesley, when at length 

 Onward he goes, rejoicing in his strength ? 

 From Douro, from Castile's extended plain, 

 The foe, a numerous band, 

 Retire ; amid the heights which overhang 

 Dark Ebro's bed, they think to make their stand. 

 He reads their purpose, and prevents their speed ; 

 And still as they recede. 

 Impetuously he presses on their way. 

 Till by Vlttoria's walls they stood at bay, 

 And drew their battle up in fair array. 



XV. 



Vain their array, their valour vain : 

 There did the practised Frenchman find 

 A master arm, a roaster mind ! 

 Behold the veteran army driven 

 Vot. LV. 2 N 



