The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

894 rlBHE VISION OF DON RODERICIL
VL
O triumph for the Fiends of Lust and wrath!
Ne'er to be told, yet ne'er to be forgot,
What wanton horrors mark'd their wrackfill pathl
The peasant butcher'd in his ruin'd cot,
The hoary priest even at the altar shot,
Childhood and age given o'er to sword and flame,
Woman to infamy; no crime forgot,
By which inventive deemons might proclaim
Immortal hate to Man, and scorn ot God's great namel
VII
The rudest sentinel, in Britain born,
With horror paused to view the havoc done,
Gave his poor crust to feed some wretch forlorn,
Wiped his stern eye, then fiercer grasp'd his gun.
Nor with less zeal shall Britain's peaceful son
Exult the debt of sympathy to pay;
Riches nor poverty the tax shall shun,
Nor prince nor peer, the wealthy nor the gay,
Nor the poor peasant's mite, nor bard's more worthless lay,
VIIE
But thou-unfoughten wilt thou yield to Fate,
Minion of Fortune, now miscall'd in vain
Can vantage-ground no confidence create,
Alarcella's pass, nor Guarda's mountain chain?
Vain-glorious Fugitive! yet turn again!
Behold, where, named by some Prophetic Seer,
Flows Honour's Fountain, as fore-doom'd the stain
From thy dishonour'd name and arms to clearFallen Child of Fortune, turn, redeem her favour here!
IX.
Yet, ere thou turn'st, collect each distant aid:
Those chieifthat never heard the Lion roarl
Within whose souls lives not a trace portray'd,
Of Talavera, or Mondego's shorel
Marshal each band thou hast, and summon more;
Of war's fell stratagems exhaust the whole;
Rank upon rank, squadron on squadron pour,
Legion on iegion on thy foeman roll,
An3 weary out his arm-thou canst not quell his soul