The Sun. — 1821-07-17 (London, England)

SANTARBM, PORTUGAL. BY C. B. s—rt. O'er the proud heighta whiehlook o'er ?'ego's flood, In dread array the hostile armies stood ; With zealous vigilance, through day and night, This hopes for battle, that prepares for flight The Gallic Chief and his dishearten'd host Feel the sure failure of their Despot's boast ;'Elio' famine urge, attack he dares not try, Ile fears. to.fight, nor fears he less to fly. Darkness prevails, and silence strange ar?tdrear Adds to the gloom of night. the. awe of fear ; . . Darkness, save that'from SANT'RE ass tented height, MaasitetA's watch-fires cast a tbreat'ning light ; 'Save *here the rriciOnbeams on the waters phy. And. the streakial ivave reflects a trembling ray e - Silence; save where the guard pursues its round, And gives the word, and tramps the hollow ground t Save were the cadence of the distant oar In less'ning echo dies along te Shore. . • • • • , But hark ! what sudden murmurs lOati the gale, What eager tidings clamour thro' the vale, • The gatifring drums now speak the dread alarms, • And the loud sounding clarion brays to arms. • The foe is fled, accurst the treach'rous flame • That mock'd our watch, and lit him thro' his shame. Swift trace his course, scale the craig'd mountain's height, Rush dawn the precipice, and dare the fight, Nor let the torrent's rage protect the recreant's flight. 'Tis done ! the crirnson'd track and scatter'd dead Proclaim who follow'd, and how fast who fled. -And what could valour more ? when safety's near, Pursuit but Wings with speed the flight of fear. Daylight returns ; sad sight of mortal pain To those who seek lost friends among the slain ; * Huge heaps, alas ! of breathless forms are there, And taint with putrid blasts the passing air. Amid the fall'n that load the gory ground, The piercing groans of those who live resound, Or faint from wounds in horrid trance they lie, With their glaz'd eyeballs fix'd upon the sky— If senseless, blest ! return no more vain breath, • • Lest their remembrance aid the pangs of death ! Oh 111emory ! spare to aggravate their doom, Spare, from their faded thoughts, their friends at home ; From their lov'd country turn the ghastly eye, Nor that way bid them gaze, and gazing die ! But now again urge on the bold pursuit, Who first shall reach them be our sole diSpitte ; • Poirnball and Coimbra 'shall attest how well Our troops obey'd ; and where the victims fell. - But alt ! what horrors cross the Conqu'ror's way, Thou Torres-novas, Thomar, Puthas say: Ye can attest, victims to Gallic faith, • • You gave them shelter, and they gave yen death !. Lo ! on the earth the murder'd youth is laid, Who vainly sought to save a shiiekihg maid ; Before her cottage door thentiother And at her bleeding breast her infant cries. These are the boons the tyrant's oath afford To the dup'd wretch that deed to trust his word— These are the blessings he on all bestows Who hope for safety. whilst they arc his foes. Raise, Lusitania, raise thy drooping head, • Thy bonds are, burst, 'thy boasting foe is fled— Thy patriot bands, by British Science taught, With equal 'valour have endur'd and fought. liaise, Lusitania, raise thy thoughts,, and see What diff 'rent motives urge thy foe and thee. His conscripts, forc'd to guard a-tyrant's sway, Fight, but because 'tis death to disobey— Their hearts, with not one noble joy elate, • Die in a cause they scorn, and for a man they hate. Whilst their poor mangled bodies ne'er shall prove One pitying mark of grief, or care, or love ; But on yon patriot band, tho' fate deny Protracted life, and valour bids you die, A nation's woe shall mourn each hero's fall ; Honour and Friendship shall support his pall ; And o'er his bier whilst flow'rs and laurels wave, Protected beauty's tear shall mark his grave. Raise, Lusitania, raise thy valiant arm, Since, taught by BERESFORD, you .corn alarm ; Where matchless WELLINGTON directs the way, Trust that to conquer is but to obey : Or, if you wish an added force to boast, Hope dauntless GRAHAMS yet may join your host. • Or seek ye aid from your dead champions' fame, Brave