XV.

But rapid Soult who notes the unequal fight O’er Bidasoa’s stream two bridges throws On barks securely moored and trestles light, And, quick, Villatte’s reserves their fronts disclose. O’er bridge and mount they fly to face their foes. San Marcial’s sides they climb, his shrine they gain. Thy line, Castile, an instant backward goes. But up great Arthur rides--the sons of Spain Recall their strength, and hurl the foemen to the plain.