XII.

Now Mont’ Orgullo vaunting Pride doth shew Less proudly throned, for climb Olía’s side The straining oxen, dragging upward slow, With starting eye-ball and hoof opening wide, Cannon and mortar o’er the foaming tide Terrific hung. And Man the work completes, Where fail the labouring beasts, till e’en Mount Pride O’ercrested now from far defiance meets; And from the Miradór who gazeth slaughter greets!