From Talavera’s wall and tower
And from the mountain’s height,
Where they had stood for many an hour
To view the varying fight,
Burghers and peasants in amaze
Behold their groves and vineyards blaze:
Calm they had view’d the bloody fray,
And little thought that France’s groan
And England’s sigh, ere close of day,
Should mingle with their own!
But ah! far other cries than these
Are wafted on the dismal breeze--
Groans, not the wounded’s lingering groan--
Shrieks, not the shriek of death alone--
But groan, and shriek, and yell,
Of terror, torture, and despair;
Such as ’twould chill the heart to hear
And freeze the tongue to tell--
When to the very field of fight,
Dreadful alike in sound and sight,
The conflagration spread,
Involving in its fiery wave
The brave and reliques of the brave--
The dying and the dead!