Chapter XII: Canto X: I

Heavy the Morn, and sullenly and fierce
A thunder-storm o’ergathers Haya’s crest.
His rocky diadem red lightnings pierce,
Leap o’er each crag, and smite the eagle’s nest;
And volleying thunder rolls from East to West.
Now rain in gushing torrents drowns the sky;
Anon a fiery bolt on Mandal’s breast
Leaves its black scar;--anon the storm from high
O’er Bidasóa falls while winds like spirits cry!

II.

Great Arthur seized the tempest as a boon,
His columns lit by glory to advance
Tow’rds Commissari, Bayonnette, and Rhune,
And entering tame the pride of haughty France.
Daring his mighty plan, whose toils enhance
The Fuéntarábian waters poured between.
A stronger than Bernardo wields the lance,
And Paladins again to quail are seen.
Our conquering footsteps Spain re-echoes proud, I ween.

III.

For Roncesvalles is to Spain restored;
Her Mina’s legions fill its storied dell.
His Guerrilleros ’neath that Chief adored
’Gainst the marauding Gaul have battled well.
And at Baigorri hark where grandly swell
The war-notes of Castile, while rush the wild
Partidas ringing many a Norman’s knell;
And sweep from France the forage she hath piled
On Spanish soil profaned, from stall and sheepfold mild.

IV.

Unconsciously the lowing herds resent
Their change of masters, rudely by the horn
Seized in the foray while trabúcos bent
’Gainst Gaulish bosoms vomit deathful scorn,
With loud explosive sound on Echo borne.
And innocent sheep in thousands piteous bleat
’Gainst hands that will restore them ere the Morn
To the sweet fold, and oxen loud repeat
Moan upon moan, by bayonet pricked or firelock beat.

V.

And on Ayrola’s rock is swift surprised
By Campbell’s highlanders a post of Gaul;
For not more firm the red-deer’s limb is poised
For strength and fleetness mixed than doth befal
Those hardy mountaineers whose shouts appal
The braves of France--as e’en surprised them more,
When first beheld by Vimieiro’s wall,
Their antique garb, such as in days of yore
(In them revived to-day) the Roman legions wore.

VI.

Thus breaking fast the spirit of Gallia’s sons,
Great Arthur now begins his great emprize;
Where Bidasóa’s stream impetuous runs,
Resolved to pass though strenuous Soult defies.
And while the thunder-storm doth lash the skies,
His dread artillery’s ranged on Marcial’s flanks.
O’er the tall crest doth many a cannon rise;
His columns line the Bidasóa’s banks,
In silence poured along, and form their warlike ranks.

VII.

Full many a howitzer by fair Irún,
While rages still the blast, its thunder hoards;
And there lies closely moored each strong pontoon,
Beneath the town. Where Bidasóa’s fords,
Through fishermen unawed by Gallic swords,
To lynx-eyed vigilance their soundings yield,
Castile shall pass and flout her tyrant lords.
With deftest skill the troops are all concealed
By Jonco, Biriatú, and Fuéntarabia’s field.

VIII.

And near to fair Behóbia’s broken arch
The Lusitan battalion secret placed
Is with the British guards prepared to march
Beyond the Adour, till Gaul herself shall taste
Invasion’s sweets, her dreams of glory chased!
Still stand i’ the camp the tent-sheets as before,
Nor change appears nor new design embraced,
When breaks that clouded morn from mist-drops o’er
Pyrene’s towering hills, and gloom o’erspreads the shore.

IX.

Beneath Andaye our bold brigades emerge,
And in two columns rapid cross the sand.
Silent as Death they gain the river’s verge,
They pass the fords, they reach the further land.
Then rose on high a rocket streaming grand,
The signal true from Fuéntarabia’s tower;
And howitzer and cannon briskly manned
From tall San Marcial raised their voice of power,
And covered with their fire the fords in peril’s hour.

X.

Seven columns o’er the sand like serpents wind,
With crimson bright and azure scales bespread--
The various garbs of Spain and England joined--
And glancing bayonets bristle o’er each head;
No Hydra in Lernæan marsh so dread!
The Gaul o’ermatched can scarcely trust his eyes.
Confusedly gathering each with shame is red;
And form our lines beyond the stream ere flies
A hostile shot, so great that terrible surprise!

XI.

Now mustering yet disordered forth they come,
For spreads the alarm: _Alerte! alerte!_’s the cry.
The hurrying leaders urge them--rolls the drum,
And to San Marcial’s thunderous guns reply
Their cannon from the Grand Monarque on high.
But all too late the movement--see, their camp
Beneath Andaye is carried manfully
At glittering point of bayonet. Nought can damp
The ardour of our men, or check their onward tramp.

XII.

Vain, Boyer, thy decision--vain, Maucune,
Thy energy. Soult hears the cannonade
At Espelette, and rushes forth full soon;
But ere he comes his camps a prey are made
By Britain’s sons beneath Andaya’s shade.
Zugáramurdi feels the advancing power,
And D’Erlon sees his post by Fate betrayed--
The Lusitan battalion’s fairest flower
Alone by France cut down in that eventful hour.

XIII.

Our German Chasseurs now by Halket led
The Grand Monarque with vigorous footsteps climb.
Before their onset fierce the Gaul hath fled;
But, guardian of the pass, that peak sublime
Must not be yielded in an instant’s time.
Reille pours his masses on the mountain’s brow,
With field artillery, to efface the crime
Of light concession. Halt the Germans now,
For tired and wounded sore their spirits an instant bow.

XIV.

But Cameron with his gallant warriors rushed
Straight through their broken ranks, and gained the peak,
Where stands the Wreathéd Cross. Ne’er torrent gushed
From Mandal more impetuous fierce to seek
The plain. Beneath the shock Gaul’s columns break.
First fly their cannon down the mountain-side,
And next--the mouths secured that dare not speak--
To a lower ridge the infantry doth glide
Where forms their line, not yet abated all their pride.

XV.

Narrow the pathway leading to the ridge,
Which now the Frenchmen clustering strongly hold;
But o’er it urge, like passing tiniest bridge,
In single column led by Cameron bold,
Our heroes as at Azincour of old.
The hill doth inward curve--concentrate fire
The foemen pour; but by the shout appalled
Of sturdiest freemen, swift the French retire,
The British bayonet ne’er withstanding in its ire.

XVI.

And Freyre’s Spaniards now the peak have won
Of Mandal lording o’er his craggy slopes,
Where the Green Mountain glistens in the sun,
And tow’rds Urogne an easy pathway opes.
Thus turned his flanks, and foiled in front his hopes,
Reille by the causeway of Bayonne recedes,
Till Soult’s great voice the flight majestic stops.
In vain the foeman’s breast contending bleeds;--
The Bidasóa’s won--not least of England’s deeds!

XVII.

But yet the pass of Vera we must gain,
Where now Girón from Ivantelly’s come
And Longa with the skirmishers of Spain,
And Alten too with men Old England from--
Not these the least, I ween, in Victory’s sum!
Dire were the works upon the heights above
Which Gaul could raise, but not the brave benumb.
And here was Nial, oft with tenderest love
Musing on Isabel, poor lorn and fluttering dove!

XVIII.

The youth looked up: by outward posts defended
And star-redoubts he saw the Bayonnette;
The Commissari with that mountain blended
Was girt with abatís incessant met.
He thought those bulwarks would be England’s yet!
A gulf profound with skirmishers was filled,
And thickest woods where marksmen keen were set.
Rugged the path where Spain her hope must build,
With turns abrupt where men by striplings might be killed.

XIX.

An isolated mountain midway rose--
’Tis called “The Boar”--by France’s warriors crowned;
And Longa’s guns and Colborne’s rifles chose
The toilsome task to gain this lofty ground--
So high, though dwarfed amongst the peaks around,
That the spent musket-bullets singing fell
All harmless at its foot with feeble sound,
Which marksmen from the crest directed well
’Gainst our advancing men, but none its tale could tell.

XX.

The word is given, and swift our heroes climb
The mountain, Nial first their steps to guide.
A pine-wood’s gained far up in quickest time--
They breathe a moment--with disdainful pride
Doth Nial dash each shadowing branch aside,
And forward rush, exclaiming, “On men, on!”
His gallant followers scorn secure to bide
Behind--the summit’s gained--the foemen wan
Scarce meet their dashing charge; an instant--they are gone!

XXI.

Emboldened by this triumph rush the Allies;
Our columns plunge into the rough defile.
The dark ravine to the left with lusty cries
Is ta’en by Longa’s Leonese, the while
Colborne’s brigade o’er narrow pathways toil
To the Bayonnette with skirmishers before,
Breastwork, redoubt, and abatís to spoil.
With men and fire the slopes are covered o’er,
And curls white smoke above the forest-battle’s roar.

XXII.

Through each intrenchment in the greater pass
Soon Kempt’s brigade doth force resistless sway,
His skirmishers wide scattered o’er the grass
To small detachments broke, as melt away
The lessening slopes into the ridges gray.
The platform’s won, and Colborne’s bold brigade
Of rifles far above, like huntsmen gay,
Is seen to emerge from forth the forest shade
To the broad space before the star-redoubt displayed.

XXIII.

Nial was there, and swift he led his men
With rapid fire the strong redoubt to storm.
Their dark attire the French mistaking then
For garb of Southron soldiers, forth they swarm,
And face our caçadores in conflict warm.
Sudden their charge, and struggling hand to hand,
The firelock and its fixéd bayonet form
Against the unarméd rifle surer brand,
And shrill the Frenchmen cried as backward drew the band.

XXIV.

But Nial with his sword the bayonet matched,
And as he fought upon the rocky verge
That bounds the platform, he a firelock snatched
From forth a Frenchman’s hands whom he did urge
At swordpoint till he slew him. While the surge
Of foemen rushed, he kept them all at bay,
Till from the forest swift our troops emerge.
Their crimson garb with panic struck the fray,
And Nial cheered his men to give their rifles play.

XXV.

Then loud arose the sturdy British shout.
Rifles and foot in full career advance.
The foe to their intrenchment wheel about;
And England’s sons, improving well the chance,
The fort have entered with the sons of France.
Dense clouds of smoke o’er all the works ascended.
Sharp rang the musket, active played its lance.
But soon the mass of French and English blended
Emerged, while British cheers proclaimed the conflict ended.

XXVI.

Up, up the crags the rapid Frenchman flies,
The powerful Briton following in his trail,
Till new intrenchment, new redoubts, arise.
Once more they stand--once more our troops assail
Their abatís, till France again doth quail.
And ever Nial flourished in the van
His faithful sword that turned the foeman pale,
And cheered his rifles on, and foremost ran,
Like gallant chief whose port gives courage to each man.

XXVII.

And Colborne nobly guided the brigade,
Which now the mount hath carried to its crest;
But there a terrible redoubt’s displayed,
Where loop-holed works with musketry arrest
The brave who fall with many a piercéd breast.
No howitzer is there--no mountain-gun,
But missiles scarce less dire our troops molest;
For thundering down the steep comes many a stone,
Huge, rugged, dealing death, or shattering flesh and bone.

XXVIII.

But Kempt’s brigade its toilsome way hath gained
With Andaluzan comrades up the steep,
And turned the fort’s left flank--’tis scarce attained,
When rush the foemen in disordered heap
Down the far hill-side to the valley deep.
The fort is our’s! The tricolor is torn
By Nial from the flag-staff at a leap;
And, Spain, thy lions and thy towers upborne
In many a victor field its summit proud adorn.

XXIX.

The Bayonnette is won! The mountain’s brow
Doth bear a signal-tower whose beechen arms
Soult’s mandates wonted to transmit till now,
And o’er his lines convey with magic charms
Of fleetness War’s instructions and alarms.
“Now down,” quoth Nial, “with the wooden head,
Whose baleful movement oft the Spaniard harms.
His clumsy flourishes through æther sped
No more shall wound the Allies, no more by Soult be read.”

XXX.

From Leon’s corps two sturdy pioneers
With gleaming axes clove the column’s foot.
The laughing Andaluz the tell-tale jeers:
“’Tis thus we lay the hatchet to the root.”
“That tree,” said Nial, “shall no more give fruit!”
The Andaluzes yet more fiercely mock,
Keen as the shafts their bullring Majos shoot:--
“Now did king Joseph’s self receive the shock,
Right lustily the axe should cleave the senseless block!”

XXXI.

Soon pierced the column round, till scarce a thread
Supports its weight:--“Look out--look out below!”
Another stroke--and stoops its monstrous head.
It sways--it topples o’er--first bending slow,
Then falls with mighty crash beneath the blow.
As when ’mid storms, some labouring ship to ease,
The mast is hewn away, and falls where flow
The seething billows--tackles, shrouds, and trees,
Canvass and cordage sink, a victim to the seas.

XXXII.

Meanwhile great Arthur hath so well combined
His several forces tow’rds the frontier nigh,
That Commissari and Puérto, as designed,
Our flag now wear upon their summits high.
Five perilous hours our heroes by the cry
Of Freedom spurred, o’er crags stupendous toiling,
Have ceaseless fought where dead and wounded lie,
At every guarded post the Frenchman foiling,
And round Pyrene’s girth like powerful serpent coiling.

XXXIII.

But now the greater Rhune must too be won,
And Colborne’s corps and Longa’s force the hill.
Through wooded gorge, up craggy slopes they run,
Then breathless pause--again with lusty will
Burst fresh and sparkling like a mountain rill.
And many and fleet the skirmishers of France,
With fusillade severe but conquering still,
They backward drive along the broad expanse,
And Nial’s gleaming sword was ever in advance.

XXXIV.

Strong was the line of abatís that rose
Full in the path of Longa’s wearied men.
They halt irresolute before their foes,
Nor list to Longa’s voice nor mark his ken.
But Nial whom all loved was ’mongst them then,
And “_adelante_” crying waved his sword--
Leapt o’er the abatís i’ the lion’s den.
The generous Spaniards bounded at the word,
Saved “the fair boy” and smote the French with one accord.

XXXV.

To Rhune’s enormous sides the foemen fled,
Where ’neath Clausel the Gaul doth muster strong.
The Hermitage upon the mountain’s head
Is thick with arméd men,--though Fate should wrong,
Full stern resolved the contest to prolong.
By others not less fierce are held his flanks;
To Sarre and to Ascain extends the throng.
A lower ridge the greater Rhune embanks,
And this too bristles o’er with Gallia’s hostile ranks.

XXXVI.

Now--now the Andaluzes scale the Rhune,
By Colborne’s caçadores supported still.
A musket-shot below the crest full soon
Their charge doth reach, to where a craggy hill
Detached doth rise. This natural bulwark fill
The skirmishers of France, whose fusillade
Not long withstands the assailants’ vengeful will.
The bulwark’s cleared, the pathway free is made,
And up the Spaniards climb--nor ask for British aid.

XXXVII.

But from the Hermitage terrific rocks
Come bounding fierce, of such enormous size,
That seemeth each of those succeeding shocks
Enough to sink a column ne’er to rise!
Not Valour’s self can with unmovéd eyes
That horrid task of Sisyphus survey.
Appalled and unadvancing the allies
With distant fire along the mountain way
The foe in vain assail, withheld by dire dismay.

XXXVIII.

But saw great Arthur now with Lyncean ken,
Though Rhune was there impregnable, a side
Which might a pathway open to his men,
And give their arms of Gaul to tame the pride.
O’er Sarre the ascent arose more fair and wide,
And strongly there concentred the brigades
Assail the rocks that long approach defied.
The rocks are won--the Gaulish valour fades,--
And won a height intrenched their camp at Sarre which shades.

XXXIX.

From Echallar on Barbe our men descend,
And win the fort with British shouts of power.
The camp of Sarre’s outflanked, Clausel doth end
Resistance there, retiring in that hour.
He dreads his rear cut off, resigns his tower
Of strength--the greater Rhune, and takes his stand
Upon the lesser height. But soon the flower
Of Britain’s rifles crown the mountain grand,
And from the Hermitage the lower heights command.

XL.

And while the garrison was swift retiring
From that strong ground, their path young Nial crost
With six poor rifles not a shot e’en firing,
When forth the gallant stept, and from his post,
“Lay down your arms!” he shouted to the host--
Three hundred men! His mandate they obeyed,
Scared by that voice of power, and deeming lost
All means of ’scape. Resistance none they made,
And Nial at their head regained his bold brigade.

XLI.

And when the eye of England’s glorious Chief,
Great Arthur, fell with favour on the youth,
And praise he spoke in stirring words though brief,
Such as with thought impregnate all and truth
It was his wont to utter, Envy’s tooth
Of calumny to silence proudly shaming,
Beat Nial’s heart, and soldiers all uncouth
Felt tears well nigh to flow, the stripling naming
So loved by all, their hearts with gentlest Valour taming.

XLII.

And Nial thought upon his Isabel,
For all his proudest feelings centred there,
Prophetic that the maid he loved so well
The praise would echo sweetly, smiling fair;
And while his brow a loftier plume doth wear
Through glory for that day’s achievements done,
With her he thought the joyous fruits to share,
With her to feel the glow of Victory’s sun,
For still for her and Spain was Freedom’s battle won.

XLIII.

Now our’s the Bidasóa, our’s the Rhune,
And Bayonnette, and Commissari too.
Oh France! thy fields shall now be entered soon,
For at our feet the fair Nivelle doth flow.
Saint Jean de Luz, thy vesper-lights below
O’erhang the Gascon gulf. Invasion’s tread
Hath passed thy border, yet no sound of wo
Shall rend thy sky, thy homes shall mourn no dead,
For Justice now humane with Britain’s arms is wed.

XLIV.

The wail of San Sebastian reached thy heart,
Great Arthur, and provoked the stern command,
Which none may dare dispute. The conqueror’s part
Shall Mercy temper in the Gaulish land.
Now on Pyrene’s farthest summit stand
Thy legions bolder than e’er Cæsar’s arm
To victory marshalled. Every crag was manned
By arméd foes, yet quelled is War’s alarm
Through Spain, such Valour’s power, such godlike Freedom’s charm!

XLV.

But mourn the brave who nobly fighting fell
Upon Pyrene’s mountains, mourn the brave
Whose breasts were pierced, where strove those bosoms well,
And, ah, too oft have found not e’en a grave!
For o’er those pathless solitudes the wave
Of War hath rolled, and ’mid those regions vast
Full many a wounded man, with none to save,
Hath sighed his aidless death-groan to the blast,
And vultures strip the bones which Heaven will clothe at last!

HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES TO CANTO X.

The Passage of the Bidasoa, with the military movements which immediately ensued, completing that operation and establishing the left wing of our army on the soil of France, occupies the entire of this Canto. The events with which it deals will be found very fully and satisfactorily recorded in Napier’s _History_, book xxii. chap. 4. The thunder-storm which rolled over the district on the eventful morning chosen by Wellington for this remarkable strategical evolution is by no means exaggerated in the text. It is in the Pyrenees that thunder is witnessed to perfection. The exploits which in this Canto I attribute to Nial have all their foundation in the genuine history of the campaign.

General Alten had the command of the Light Division, and the Rifle corps, to which I suppose Nial to have belonged, was under the immediate guidance of the gallant Colborne.

Captain Batty’s description of the Passage of the Bidasoa, with which operation, the first in which he shared, he commences his _Campaign of the Western Pyrenees_, is very animated, and illustrated by spirited etchings of the event of the Passage and of Pyrenean scenery. His view of Fuenterrabia and of the mountain of Jaizquibel is particularly deserving of praise. It is impossible to describe the effect upon my feelings of going over this heroic mountain ground from Andaye to the Louis Quatorze, from Bildox and Mandale to the Bayonnette and Commissari, and from thence to the greater Rhune.

The allusion in the commencement of this Canto to the Vale of Baigorri refers to the rescue of an enormous amount of forage by Mina’s Guerrilla from the French, including 2,000 sheep.

The pastoral habits, to which large districts in Spain are still addicted, cause the people to occupy five times the extent of land, which with agricultural pursuits would be sufficient for their maintenance. The pastoral institution of the _mesta_ encourages the feeding of sheep, and the enormous migratory flocks of Estremadura and elsewhere move every year some hundreds of miles, devastating the tracts over which they pass. “By the increase of pasture,” says Sir Thomas More, “your sheep, that are naturally mild, may be said now to devour men, and unpeople, not only villages, but towns.”--_Utopia_, book i. The invaders found their account in this primitive system, and their entire subsistence was derived from ready plunder. The French in their Peninsular prowlings resembled in one other respect, as well as in their Republican and Heathen names, the Lacedæmonians, who held a grand hunt annually, in which the agricultural peasantry were pursued and destroyed like wild beasts--a fact which, though Müller questions the testimony that supports it, is as well authenticated as any other incident in the Dorian history. The argument, taken from the improbable inhumanity of the fact, is refuted by the modern practices of the French in Spain and Portugal, and in their Algerian Razzias to this hour. They differ from the Lacedæmonians, it would seem, in this, that the Spartans perpetrated the enormity only once a year, while the French perform it weekly. I have seen with my own eyes the ravages which they have left in the Peninsula, the glorious monuments of antiquity which they have disfigured and defaced, the desecration which they have brought upon shrine and tomb. And, much as I may be disposed to forget and forgive, it is not easy to suppress one’s choler amidst the mutilated glories of Burgos, Alcobaça, and Batalha.

II. “The Fuéntarábian waters poured between.”

When Charlemagne with all his peerage fell
By Fontarabia.
Milt. _Par. Lost_, i. 586.

In this name, I have departed slightly from the Spanish orthography, a corruption of the Latin _Fons rapidus_, and made “_errabia_” “_arabia;_” in deference to the example of Milton, and for the sake of the excellent musical effect in connection with one of the finest names in romance.

V. “When first beheld by Vimieiro’s wall.”

Vimieiro is merely a village about 35 miles N.N.W. of Lisbon, where the accommodations are so miserable that it was with difficulty I could procure a _calda de gallinha_ (boiled fowl served up with its broth) the only thing in the shape of comfortable nourishment which is to be had in the country parts of Portugal. The walls referred to are therefore, as may be supposed, not turret-crowned like Berecynthian Cybele. For the allusion to the effect produced on the French by the sight of our Highlanders first met by them in this battle, see Southey, _Hist. Penins. War_, and Campbell, _Ode for the Highland Society_.

VI. “Where Bidasoa’s stream impetuous runs.”

The Passage of the Bidasoa took place on the 7th October, a month after the fall of San Sebastian. The morning was heavy and louring, and the day’s work was ushered in by a thunder-storm (already referred to) which caused the early British operations to be happily unperceived.

VII. “To lynx-eyed vigilance their soundings yield.”

“By the help of Spanish fishermen he had secretly discovered three fords, practicable at low water, between the bridge of Behobia and the sea.” Napier, _Hist. War in the Penins._ book xxii. chap. 4.

XI. “Their cannon from the Grand Monarque on high.”

The mountain of Louis XIV., overhanging the Bidasoa at Biriatú, where the French had their principal battery.

XII. “The Lusitan battalion’s fairest flower,”

The Portuguese brigade lost one hundred and fifty men.

XIV. “The peak where stands the wreathéd cross.”

The Croix des Bouquets--a height adjoining the mountain of Louis XIV.

XV. “The British bayonet ne’er withstanding in its ire.”

This is no boast. It is a fact attested by the whole of our Peninsular and Belgian campaigns that the French never withstood one bayonet charge, and scarcely ever, indeed, would cross that weapon with us.

XVI. “Where the green mountain glistens in the sun.”

Bildox, called the Sierra Verde, a little northward of the Mandale mountain.

“The Bidasoa’s won--not least of England’s deeds.”

“This stupendous operation.”
Napier, _Hist. War in the Penins._,
book xxii. chap. 4.

XXII. ----“Colborne’s bold brigade
Of Rifles far above, like huntsmen gay.”

Des jägers muth ist immer grün,
Und aus dem grünen muth soll blühn
Ein blümlein blutig roth,
Soll heissen feindes tod. * *
Mein schatz gab mir ’nen silbern ring,
Dass ich ihr einen gold’nen bring’;
Der ring soll sein entwandt
Von eines Franzmanns hand!
Rückert.

“The jäger’s courage (like his raiment) is evergreen, and out of the green courage shall spring a blood-red flowret, and be called Death to the Foe! * * My beloved gave to me a silver ring, that I may bring her a ring of gold. The ring shall be taken from a Frenchman’s hand!”

XXIV. ----“A firelock snatched
From forth a Frenchman’s hand whom he did urge
At sword point till he slew him,” &c.

Tancredi con un colpo il ferro crudo
Del nemico ribatte, e lui fere anco:
Nè poi, ciò fatto, in ritirarsi tarda,
Ma si raccoglie, e si ristringe in guarda.
Tasso, Gerus. _Lib._ vi. 43.

XXVI. “Like gallant chief whose port gives courage to each man.”

----como sabio capitão,
Tudo corria, e via, e a todos dava
Com presença e palavras coração.
Camóens, _Lus._ iv. 36.

XXIX. ----“The mountain’s brow
Doth bear a signal tower whose beechen arms.”

“Longa was also to send some men over the river to Andarlasa, to seize a telegraph which the French used to communicate between the left and centre of their line.” Napier, xxii. 4.

XXXIV. “And ‘_adelante!_’ crying, waved his sword.”

“_Adelante!_” which signifies “forward,” is the word of encouragement used at charging in the Spanish service.

“Saved ‘the fair boy,’ and smote the French with one accord.”

This act of bravery was performed almost literally as described, by an officer of the 43rd regiment named Havelock. The Spaniards shouted for _el chico blanco_, “the fair boy,” and followed him into the abatis.

XXXVIII. “But saw great Arthur now with Lyncean ken.”

ἴδεν Λυγκεὺς. κείνου γὰρ ἐπιχθονίων
πάντων γένετ’ ὀξύτατον
ὄμμα.
Pind. _Nem._ x.

“Lynceus saw. For his sight was of all men’s the sharpest.” See also Theocritus. (_Idyl._ 27.) “Lynceo perspicacior” became an adage.

----Prolesque Aphareïa Lynceus
Et velox Idas.
Ovid. _Met._ viii. 304.

XL. “‘Lay down your arms!’ he shouted to the host.”

This adventure actually occurred to the gallant Colborne. “Accompanied by only one of his staff and half-a-dozen riflemen, he crossed their march unexpectedly, and with great presence of mind and intrepidity ordered them (three hundred men) to lay down their arms, an order which they thinking themselves entirely cut off obeyed.” (Napier, _Hist._ book xxii. chap. 4.)

XLV. “And vultures strip the bones which Heaven will clothe at
last!”

----οἱ δ’ ἐπὶ γαίῃ
Κείατο, γύπεσσιν πολὺ φίλτεροι ἢ ἀλόχοισιν.
Hom. _Il._ xi. 161.

“Upon the ground they lay, far dearer to the vultures than to their wives!”--one of the most terrible lines that ever was written.

IBERIA WON.