XVI.

For ’neath that mighty Chief’s commanding eye Impossible to sink or droop or quail. And Aylmer’s British-born brigade is nigh To baffle France if, Spain, thy sons should fail. A loud Castilian shout doth rend the gale, Acknowledging the Hero’s presence there. Full swift the Gaul is dashed into the vale, Urged to the brink of Bidasoa fair; And drowned or slaughtered sink the victims of despair.