And she might proudly raise her front anew,
Victorious crown'd with rays of glory bright,
Her course 'gainst arduous fortune to pursue,
Triumphant in your wisdom and your might.
Yet fell ye not, ye generous squadrons! there,
Without revenge and slaughter. Spreading wide,
Rivers of English blood your powers declare.
And Albion also horror-struck descried
Mountains of bodies weigh, a heavy pile,
On her so proud Armada. Nelson, too!
Terrible shade! O, think not, no, that vile
My voice to name thee, e'er an insult threw
On thy last sigh. As English I abhor,
But hero I admire thee. O, thy fate!
Of captive ships a crowd, the spoils of war,
The Thames awaits, and now exults elate
To hail with shouts the conqueror's return!
But only pale and cold beholds her Chief!
Great lesson left for human pride to learn,
And worthy holocaust for Spanish grief.
Yet still the rage of Mars impels the arm
Of destiny; mow'd down unnumber'd lives.
By fury launch'd, voracious flames alarm;
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MANUEL JOSE QUINTANA.
