At Santarem

Four months Massena had his quarters here.
When by those lines deterr'd where Wellington
Defied the power of France, but loth to leave
Rich Lisbon yet unsack'd, he kept his ground,
Tdl from impending famine, and the force
Arrayed in front, and that consuming war
Which still the faithful nation, day and night.
And at all hours, was waging on his rear,
He saw no safety, save in swift retreat.
Then of his purpose frustrated, this child
Of Hell, — so fitter than of Victory call'd,
Gave his own devilish nature scope, and let
His devilish army loose. The mournful rolls
That chronicle the guilt of humankind.
Tell not of aught more hideous than the deeds
With which this monster and his kindred troops
Tracked their inhuman way — all cruelties.
All forms of horror, all deliberate crimes.
Which tongue abhors to utter, ear to hear.
Let this memorial bear Massena's name
For everlasting infamy inscribed.