XIII. Yes! hard the task, when Britons wield the sword, To give each Chief and every field its fame: Hark! Albuera thunders BERESFORD, And Red Barosa shouts for dauntless GRÆME! O for a verse of tumult and of flame, Bold as the bursting of their cannon sound, To bid the world re-echo to their fame! For never, upon gory battle-ground, With conquest's well-bought wreath were braver victors crown'd! 1 XIV. O who shall grudge him Albuera's bays, Nothing during the war of Portugal seems, to a distinct observer, more deserving of praise, than the self-devotion of Field-Marshal Beresford, who was contented to undertake all the hazard of obloquy which might have been founded upon any miscarriage in the highly important experiment of training the Portuguese troops to an improved state of discipline. In exposing his military reputation to the censure of imprudence from the most moderate, and all manner of unutterable calumnies from the ignorant and malignant, he placed at stake the dearest pledge which a military man had to offer, and nothing but the deepest conviction of the high and essential importance attached to success can be supposed an adequate motive. How great the chance of miscarriage was supposed, may be estimated from the general opinion of officers of unquestioned talents and experience, possessed of every opportunity of information; how completely the experiment has succeeded, and how much the spirit And raised fair Lusitania's fallen shield, XV. Not on that bloody field of battle won, He braved the shafts of censure and of shame, And, dearer far than life, he pledged a soldier's fame. XVI. Nor be his praise o'erpast who strove to hide Beneath the warrior's vest affection's wound, Whose wish Heaven for his country's weal denied; Danger and fate he sought, but glory found. From clime to clime, where'er war's trumpets sound, The wanderer went; yet, Caledonia! still Thine was his thought in march and tented ground; He dream'd 'mid Alpine cliffs of Athole's hill, And heard in Ebro's roar his Lyndoch's lovely rill. and patriotism of our ancient allies had been underrated, is evident, not only from those victories in which they have borne a distinguished share, but from the liberal and highly honourable manner in which these opinions have been retracted. The success of this plan, with all its important consequences, we owe to the indefatigable exertions of Field-Marshal Beresford. XVII. O hero of a race renown'd of old, Whose war-cry oft has waked the battle-swell, Since first distinguish'd in the onset bold, Wild sounding when the Roman rampart fell! By Wallace's side it rung the Southron's knell, Alderne, Kilsythe, and Tibber, own'd its fame, Tummell's rude pass can of its terrors tell, But ne'er from prouder field arose the name, Than when wild Ronda learn'd the conquering shout of GRÆME!1 XVIII. But all too long, through seas unknown and dark, (With Spenser's parable I close my tale,)❜ 1 This stanza alludes to the various achievements of the warlike family of Græme, or Grahame. They are said, by tradition, to have descended from the Scottish chief, under whose command his countrymen stormed the wall built by the Emperor Severus between the Friths of Forth and Clyde, the fragments of which are still popularly called Græme's Dyke. Sir John the Græme, "the hardy, wight, and wise," is well known as the friend of Sir William Wallace. Alderne, Kilsythe, and Tibbermuir, were scenes of the victories of the heroic Marquis of Montrose. The pass of Killycrankie is famous for the action between King William's forces and the Highlanders in 1689, "Where glad Dundee in faint huzzas expired." It is seldom that one line can number so many heroes, and yet more rare when it can appeal to the glory of a living descendant in support of its ancient renown. The allusions to the private history and character of General Grahame may be illustrated by referring to the eloquent and affecting speech of Mr. Sheridan, upon the vote of thanks to the Victor of Barosa. 2 ["Now, strike your sailes, yee iolly mariners, By shoal and rock hath steer'd my venturous bark, And landward now I drive before the gale. And now the blue and distant shore I hail, And nearer now I see the port expand, And now I gladly furl my weary sail, And, as the prow light touches on the strand, I strike my red-cross flag and bind my skiff to land. Where we must land some of our passengers, Faerie Queene, Book i. Canto 12.] |