The tide of fate rolls on!--heart-pierced and pale, <br />The gallant soldier lies, nor aught avail, <br />The shield, the sword, the spirit of the brave, <br />From rapine's armed hand thy vales to save, <br />Land of illustrious heroes, who, of yore, <br />Drenched the same plains with the invader's gore, <br />Stood frowning, in the front of death, and hurled <br />Defiance to the conquerors of the world! <br />Oh, when we hear the agonising tale <br />Of those who, faint, and fugitive, and pale, <br />Saw hourly, harassed through their long retreat, <br />Some worn companion sinking at their feet, <br />Yet even in danger and from toil more bold, <br />Back on their gathering foes the tide of battle rolled;-- <br />While tears of pity mingle with applause, <br />On the dread scene in silence let us pause; <br />Yes, pause, and ask, Is not thy awful hand <br />Stretched out, O God, o'er a devoted land, <br />Whose vales of beauty Nature spread in vain, <br />Where misery moaned on the uncultured plain, <br />Where Bigotry went by with jealous scowl, <br />Where Superstition muttered in his cowl; <br />Whilst o'er the Inquisition's dismal holds, <br />Its horrid banner waved in bleeding folds! <br />And dost thou thus, Lord of all might, fulfil <br />With wreck and tempests thy eternal will, <br />Shatter the arms in which weak kingdoms trust, <br />And strew their scattered ensigns in the dust? <br />Oh, if no human wisdom may withstand <br />The terrors, Lord, of thy uplifted hand; <br />If the dark tide no prowess can control, <br />Yet nearer, charged with dread commission, roll; <br />Still may my country's ark majestic ride, <br />Though sole, yet safe, on the conflicting tide; <br />Till hushed be the wild rocking of the blast, <br />And the red storm of death be overpast!<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/battle-of-corruna/
