XI.

And at Fuéntes d’Onor, whose chapelled steep ’Gainst multiplied assaults thy forces shield; Too late arriving, save the dead to weep, At Albuera’s dire, tremendous field, Where great the cost--yet Victory’s clarion pealed; And with terrific march the fusiliers, When shook the balance scorning proud to yield, Mounted the fatal hill which cannon clears, And hurled the foeman down with deafening British cheers!