VI.

On Mont’ Orgullo Mota’s fortress-crown Seems like defiant Pride from high to smile, Poised on her lofty cone, while far adown Blue Ocean bathes her feet and guards the while; And southward Santa Clara’s rocky isle Stands like a Cyclop to defend the wall. War’s stern munitions heaped in many a pile The ramparts strew, prepared the foe to gall-- Yet deeply now ’tis sworn, shall San Sebastian fall!