SCENE n PART SECOND
These are the English lines— Their outer horns and tusks—whereof I spoke, Constructed by Lord Wellington of late To keep his foothold firm in Portugal.
Thrusts he his burly, bossed disfigurements So far to north as this ? I had pictured me They lay much nearer Lisbon. Little strange Lord Wellington rode placid at Busaco With this behind his back! Well, it is hard But that we turn them somewhere, I assume ? They scarce can close up every southward gap Between the Tagus and the Atlantic Sea.
I hold they can, and do; although, no doubt, By searching we shall spy some raggedness Which customed skill may force.
Plain 'tis, no less,
We may heap corpses vainly hereabout, And crack good bones in waste. By human power This passes mounting! What say you's behind ?
Another line exactly like the first,
But more matured. Behind its back a third.
How long have these prim ponderosities Been rearing up their foreheads to the moon ?