X.

Explore those regions, where the flinty crest
Of wild Nevada ever gleams with snows,
Where in the proud Alhambra's ruin'd breast
Barbaric monuments of pomp repose;
Or where the banners of more ruthless foes

Than the fierce Moor, float o'er Toledo's fane,
From whose tall towers even now the patriot throws
An anxious glance, to spy upon the plain
The blended ranks of England, Portugal, and Spain.

XI.

« There, of Numantian fire a swarthy spark Still lightens in the sun-burnt native's eye; The stately port, slow step, and visage dark, Still mark enduring pride and constancy. And, if the glow of feudal chivalry

Beam not, as once, thy nobles' dearest pride, Iberia! oft thy crestless peasantry

Have seen the plumed Hidalgo quit their side,

The chosen soldiers of the royal guard

Their post beneath the proud cathedral hold; A band unlike their Gothic sires of old,

Who, for the cap of steel and iron mace,

Bear slender darts, and casques bedeck'd with gold, While silver-studded belts their shoulders grace, Where ivory quivers ring in the broad falchion's place. | IV.

In the light language of an idle court,

They murmur'd at their master's long delay, And held his lengthen'd orisons in sport :

« What! will Don Roderick here till morning stay,

To wear in shrift and prayer the night away?
And are his hours in such dull penance past,
For fair Florinda's plunder'd charms to pay?»—(5)
Then to the east their weary eyes they cast,

And wish'd the lingering dawn would glimmer forth at last.

V.

IX.

« O harden'd offspring of an iron race!

What of thy crimes, Don Roderick, shall I say? What alms, or prayers, or penance can efface

Murder's dark spot, wash treason's stain away? For the foul ravisher how shall I pray,

Who, scarce repentant, makes his crime his boast? How hope Almighty vengeance shall delay, Unless, in mercy to yon Christian host,

XV.

Fix'd was the right-hand giant's brazen look
Upon his brother's glass of shifting sand,
As if its ebb he measured by a book,

Whose iron volume loaded his huge hand;
In which was wrote of many a falling land,
Of empires lost, and kings to exile driven,
And o'er that pair their names in scroll expand-
<< Lo, Destiny and Time! to whom by Heaven

lest?»

X.

Then kindled the dark tyrant in his mood,

And to his brow return'd its dauntless gloom;

« And welcome then,» he cried, « be blood for blood, For treason treachery, for dishonour doom!

Yet will I know whence come they, or by whom.
Show, for thou canst-give forth the fated key,
And guide me, priest, to that mysterious room,
Where, if aught true in old tradition be,

XVI.

E'en while they read, the sand-glass wastes away;
And, as the last and lagging grains did creep,
That right-hand giant 'gan his club upsway,
As one that startles from a heavy sleep.

Full on the upper wall the mace's sweep

At once descended with the force of thunder, And hurling down at once, in crumbled heap, The marble boundary was rent asunder,

XXI.

By Heaven, the Moors prevail! the Christians yield !— Their coward leader gives for flight the sign! The scepter'd craven mounts to quit the fieldIs not yon steed Orelia!—Yes, 't is mine! (8) But never was she turn'd from battle-line;

Lo! where the recrcant spurs o'er stock and stone! Curses pursue the slave and wrath divine!

Rivers ingulf him!»-« Hush!» in shuddering tone, The prelate said; «rash prince, yon vision'd form's thine |

own.»

XXII.

Just then, a torrent cross'd the flyer's course;

The dangerous ford the kingly likeness tried;
But the deep eddies whelm'd both man and horse,
Swept like benighted peasant down the tide;
And the proud Moslemah spread far and wide,
As numerous as their native locust band;

Berber and Ismael's sons the spoils divide,
With naked scymitars mete out the land,

XXVII.

From the dim landscape roll the clouds away-
The Christians have regain'd their heritage;
Before the cross has waned the crescent's ray,
And many a monastery decks the stage,
And lofty church, and low-brow'd hermitage.
The land obeys a hermit and a knight,-
The genii these of Spain for many an age;

This clad in sackcloth, that in armour bright, And that was Valour named, this Bigotry was hight.

XXVIII.

Valour was harness'd like a chief of old,

Arm'd at all points, and prompt for knightly gest; His sword was temper'd in the Ebro cold,

Morena's eagle-plume adorn'd his crest, The spoils of Afric's lion bound his breast.

Fierce he stepp'd forward, and flung down his gage, As if of mortal kind to brave the best.

lim follow'd his companion, dark and sage,

Oft his proud galleys sought some new-found world,
That latest sees the sun, or first the morn;
Still at that wizard's feet their spoils he hurl'd,—
Ingots of ore, from rich Potosi borne,

Crowns by caciques, aigrettes by omrahs worn,

Wrought of rare gems, but broken, rent, and foul, Idols of gold, from heathen temples torn, Bedabbled all with blood.-With grisly scowl,

With every flash a bolt explosive broke,

Till Roderick deem'd the fiends had burst their yoke,
And waved 'gainst heaven the infernal gonfalone!

For War a new and dreadful language spoke,
Never by ancient warrior heard or known;

XXXIII

Preluding light, were strains of music heard,

As once again revolved that measured sand,
Such sounds as when, for sylvan dance prepared,
Gay Xeres summons forth her vintage band;
When for the light bolero ready stand

The Mozo blithe, with gay Muchacha met, (9)
He conscious of his broider'd cap and band,
She of her netted locks and light corsette,

Each tiptoe perch'd to spring, and shake the castanet.

XXXIV.

And well such strains the opening scene became;
For valour bad relax'd his ardent look,
And at a lady's feet, like lion tame,

Lay stretch'd, full loth the weight of arms to brook; And soften'd Bigotry, upon his book,

Patter'd a task of little good or ill:

But the blithe peasant plied his pruning-hook,
Whistled the muleteer o'er vale and hill,
And rung from village-green the merry seguidille.

XXXV.

Gray royalty, grown impotent of toil,

Let the grave sceptre slip his lazy hold, And careless saw his rule become the spoil Of a loose female and her minion bold. But peace was on the cottage and the fold,

From court intrigue, from bickering faction far;

Beneath the chesnut-tree Love's tale was told,
And to the tinkling of the light guitar

XXXIX.

From a rude isle his ruder lineage came:

The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearth Ascending, wraps some capital in flame,

Hath not a meaner or more sordid birth. And for the soul that bade him waste the earthThe sable land-flood from some swamp obscure, That poisons the glad husband-field with dearth, And by destruction bids its fame endure, Hath not a source more sullen, stagnant, and impure. XL.

Before that leader strode a shadowy form:

Her limbs like mist, her torch like meteor show'd, With which she beckon'd him through fight and storm, And all he crush'd that cross'd his desperate road, Nor thought, nor fear'd, nor look'd on what he trode; Realms could not glut his pride, blood could not slake, So oft as e'er she shook her torch abroadIt was Ambition bade her terrors wake, Nor deign'd she, as of yore, a milder form to take. XLI.

No longer now she spurn'd at mean revenge,

Or staid her hand for conquer'd foeman's moan,
As when, the fates of aged Rome to change,
By Cæsar's side she cross'd the Rubicon;
Nor joy'd she to bestow the spoils she won,

As when the banded powers of Greece were task'd
To war beneath the Youth of Macedon:

No seemly veil her modern minion ask'd,

star.

XXXVI.

As that sea-cloud, in size like human hand
When first from Carmel by the Tishbite seen,
Came slowly over-shadowing Israel's land,
Awhile, perchance, bedeck'd with colours sheen
While yet the sun-beams on its skirts had been,
Limning with purple and with gold its shroud,
Till darker folds obscured the blue serene,

And blotted heaven with one broad sable cloudThen sheeted rain burst down, and whirlwinds howl'd aloud:

XXXVII.

E'en so upon that peaceful scene was pour'd,

Like gathering clouds, full many a foreign band,
And he, their leader, wore in sheath his sword,
And offer'd peaceful front and open hand;
Veiling the perjured treachery he plann'd,

By friendship's zeal and honour's specious guise,
Until he won the passes of the land;

Then, burst were honour's oath, and friendship's ties!

He clutch'd his vulture-grasp, and call'd fair Spain his prize.

XXXVIII.

An iron crown his anxious forehead bore;
And well such diadem his heart became,
Who ne'er his purpose for remorse gave o'er,
Or check'd his course for piety or shame;
Who, train'd a soldier, deem'd a soldier's fame
Might flourish in the wreath of battles won,
Though neither truth nor honour deck'd his name;
Who, placed by fortune ou a monarch's throne,
Reck'd not of monarch's faith, or mercy's kingly tone.

The ruthless leader beckon'd from his train

A wan fraternal shade, and bade him kneel, And paled his temples with the crown of Spain, While trumpets rang, and heralds cried, «Castile!» (10) Not that he loved him-No!-in no man's weal,

Scarce in his own, e'er joy'd that sullen heart; Yet round that throne he bade his warriors wheel, That the poor puppet might perform his part, And be a sceptred slave, at his stern beck to start. XLIV.

But on the natives of that land misused

Not long the silence of amazement hung, Nor brook'd they long their friendly faith abused; For, with a common shriek, the general tongue Exclaim'd, «To arms!» and fast to arms they sprung. And Valour woke, that genius of the land! Pleasure and ease, and sloth, aside he flung,

As burst the awakening Nazarite his band, When 'gainst his treacherous foes he clench'd his dreadful hand.

XLV.

That mimic monarch now cast anxious eye
Upon the satraps that begirt him round,
Now doff'd his royal robe in act to fly,

And from his brow the diadem unbound.
So oft, so near, the patriot bugle wound,

From Tarik's walls to Bilboa's mountains blown. These martial satellites hard labour found,

To guard awhile his substituted throneLight recking of his cause, but battling for their own. XLVI.

From Alpuhara's peak that bugle rung,

And it was echo'd from Corunna's wall; Stately Seville responsive war-shout flung, Grenada caught it in her Moorish hall; Galicia bade her children fight or fall,

Wild Biscay shook his mountain-coronet, Valencia roused her at the battle-call,

And foremost still where Valour's sons are met, Fast started to his gun each fiery Miquelet.

XLVII.

But unappall'd, and burning for the fight,
The invaders march, of victory secure;
Skilful their force to sever or unite,

And train'd alike to vanquish or endure.
Nor skilful less, cheap conquest to ensure,
Discord to breathe, and jealousy to sow,
To quell by boasting, and by bribes to lure :

While nought against them bring the unpractised foe Save hearts for freedom's cause, and hands for freedom's blow.

XLVIII.

Proudly they march-but O! they march not forth,
By one hot field to crown a brief campaign,
As when their eagles, sweeping through the North,
Destroy'd at every stoop an ancient reign!
Far other fate had Heaven decreed for Spain;
In vain the steel, in vain the torch was plied,
New patriot armies started from the slain,

High blazed the war, and long, and far, and wide, (11) And oft the God of Battles blest the righteous side.

XLIX.

Nor unatoned, where Freedom's foes prevail,
Remain'd their savage waste. With blade and brand,
By day the invaders ravaged hill and dale,

But, with the darkness, the Guerilla band
Came like night's tempest, and avenged the land,
And claim'd for blood the retribution due,
Probed the hard heart, and lopp'd the murd'rous hand,
And Dawn, when o'er the scene her beams she threw,
'Midst ruins they had made, the spoilers' corpses knew.

L.

What minstrel verse may sing, or tongue may tell,
Amid the vision'd strife from sea to sea,

How oft the patriot banners rose or fell,
Still honour'd in defeat as victory!
For that sad pageant of events to be,

Show'd every form of fight by field and flood;
Slaughter and Ruin, shouting forth their glee,
Beheld, while riding on the tempest-scud,

The waters choked with slain, the earth bedrench'd with blood!

LI.

Then Zaragoza-blighted be the tongue

That names thy name without the honour due! For never hath the harp of minstrel rung,

Of faith so felly proved, so firmly true! Mine, sap, and bomb, thy shatter'd ruins knew, Each art of war's extremity had room, Twice from thy half-sack'd streets the foe withdrew, And when at length stern Fate decreed thy doom, They won not Zaragoza, but her children's bloody tomb. (12)

LII.

Yet raise thy head, sad city! Though in chains, Enthrall'd thou canst not be! Arise and claim Reverence from every heart where Freedom reigns, For what thou worshippest!-thy sainted dame, She of the column, honour'd be her name,

By all, whate'er their creed, who honour love! And like the sacred reliques of the flame,

That gave some martyr to the bless'd above, To every loyal heart may thy sad embers prove!

LIII.

Nor thine alone such wreck. Gerona fair!

Faithful to death thy heroes should be sung, Manning the towers while o'er their heads the air Swart as the smoke from raging furnace hung; Now thicker dark'ning where the mine was sprung, Now briefly lighten'd by the cannon's flare, Now arch'd with fire-sparks as the bomb was flung, And redd'ning now with conflagration's glare, While by the fatal light the foes for storm prepare.

LIV.

While all around was danger, strife, and fear,

While the earth shook, and darken'd was the sky, And wide destruction stunn'd the listening ear, Appall'd the heart, and stupified the eye,— Afar was heard that thrice-repeated ery,

In which old Albion's heart and tongue unite, Whene'er her soul is up, and pulse beats high, Whether it hail the wine-cup or the fight, And bid each arm be strong, or bid each heart be light.

LV.

Don Roderick turn'd him as the shout grew loud-
A varied scene the changeful vision show'd,
For, where the ocean mingled with the cloud,
A gallant navy stemm'd the billows broad.
From mast and stern St George's symbol flow'd,
Blent with the silver cross to Scotland dear;
Mottling the sea their landward barges row'd,

And flash'd the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear, And the wild beach return'd the seaman's jovial cheer.

LVI.

It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight!

The billows foam'd beneath a thousand oars, Fast as they land the red-cross ranks unite, Legions on legions brightening all the shores. Then banners rise, and cannon-signal roars, Then peals the warlike thunder of the drum, Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet-flourish pours, And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb, For, bold in Freedom's cause, the bands of Ocean

come!