XXXVI.

“Upon thy beauteous banks, Mondégo, where The cry of murdered Iñez lingers still, And faithful Pedro’s grief the breeze doth bear In many a sigh from fair Coimbra’s hill, There Albion’s heroes land. Rude blasts and chill Blow from the Atlantic. On Boarcos’ crags Full many a soldier perisheth. But will Indomitable their’s--nor Lusia lags; Priest, student, peasant, crowd ’neath azure-crimson flags.