William Wordsworth

Ah! Where Is Palafox? Nor Tongue Nor Pen

AH! where is Palafox? Nor tongue no pen

Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave!

Does yet the unheard-of vessel ride the wave?

Or is she swallowed up, remote from ken

Of pitying human nature? Once again

Methinks that we shall hail thee, Champion brave,

Redeemed to baffle that imperial Slave,

And through all Europe cheer desponding men

With new-born hope. Unbounded is the might

Of martyrdom, and fortitude, and right.

Hark, how thy Country triumphs!—Smilingly

The Eternal looks upon her sword that gleams,

Like his own lightning, over mountains high,

On rampart, and the banks of all her streams.