XVII.

But, hark! the din of slaughter; hark! the scream Of virgin innocence and matron shame. Of Spain’s defenders see the bayonets gleam, And lust and plunder the defender’s aim! Yet haply share not all nor most the blame. A band of ruffians, vilest scum of War, By deeds inglorious, crimes without a name, Sully the brightest rays of Victory’s star, And send their crimes to blaze with Valour’s fame afar.