XXXVI.

Upon a rugged mountain’s craggy crest, A shrine of spotless Mary clustered round The Lusitan battalion. Soult possest With thought of weakness there, where cannon frowned At Zabaldíca, raised Destruction’s sound; But vain its poise ’gainst that enormous height, His shot from lower crags doth back rebound. Powerless his ordnance for Titanian fight, ’Tis Nature’s storm-artillery ushers in the Night!