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Let supercilious Wisdom's smiling pride
The passion wild of these bold days deride;
But let the humbler Sage with reverence own
That something sacred glows, of name unknown,
Glows in the deeds that Heaven delights to crown;
Something that boasts an impulse uncontroul'd
By school-taught prudence, and its maxims cold.
Fired at the thought, methinks on sacred ground
I tread; where'er I cast mine eyes around,
Palmela's hill[1] and Cintra's summits tell
How the grim Sarazen's dread legions fell;
Turbans and cymeters in carnage roll'd,
And their moon'd ensigns torn from every hold:—
Yes, let the Youth whose generous search explores
The various lessons of Iberia's shores,
Let him as wandering at the Muse's hour
Of eve or morn where low the Moorish tower,
Fallen from its rocky height and tyrant sway,
Lies scatter'd o'er the dale in fragments grey,
- ↑ Palmela's hill and Cintra's summits—are both seen from Almada, and were principal forts of the Moors. They were stormed by Alphonso the first about the time of the conquest of Lisbon.
