Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye...

By William Wordsworth

Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye

We can approach, thy sorrow to behold,

Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold;

Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh.

These desolate remains are trophies high

Of more than martial courage in the breast

Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest

Thy matchless worth to all posterity.

Blood flowed before thy sight without remorse;

Disease consumed thy vitals; War upheaved

The ground beneath thee with volcanic force:

Dread trials! yet encountered and sustained

Till not a wreck of help or hope remained,

And law was from necessityreceived.