Beyond his wonted haunts, or shepherd's boy, Following the pleasure of his straggling flock, None knew the place.
Pelayo, when he saw Those glittering sources and their sacred cave, Took from his side the bugle silver-tipt, And with a breath long drawn and slow expired Sent forth that strain, which, echoing from the walls Of Cangas, wont to tell his glad return
When from the chace he came. At the first sound Favila started in the cave, and cried,
My father's horn!.. A sudden flush suffused Hermesind's cheek, and she with quicken'd eye Look'd eager to her mother silently; But Gaudiosa trembled and grew pale, Doubting her sense deceived. A second time The bugle breathed its well-known notes abroad; And Hermesind around her mother's neck Threw her white arms, and earnestly exclaim'd, 'Tis he!.. But when a third and broader blast Rung in the echoing archway, ne'er did wand, With magic power endued, call up a sight So strange, as sure in that wild solitude
It seem'd, when from the bowels of the rock The mother and her children hasten'd forth; She in the sober charms and dignity Of womanhood mature, nor verging yet Upon decay; in gesture like a Queen, Such inborn and habitual majesty Ennobled all her steps, . . or Priestess, chosen Because within such faultless work of Heaven Inspiring Deity might seem to make
Its habitation known... Favila such In form and stature as the Sea Nymph's son, When that wise Centaur from his cave well-pleased Beheld the boy divine his growing strength Against some shaggy lionet essay,
And fixing in the half-grown mane his hands, Roll with him in fierce dalliance intertwined. But like a creature of some higher sphere
Christoval de Mesa also describes the scene. "Acercandose mas, oye el sonido Del agua, con un manso y sordo ruydo. El qual era de quatro claras fuentes
Que estavan de la ermita en las esquinas, Cuyas puras de plata aguas corrientes Mostro la blanca Luna cristalinas; Y corriendo por partes diferentes
Eran de grande maravilla dignas, Y en qualquiera de todas por su parte Naturaleza se esmero con arte.
"La una mana de una viva pena,
Y qual si tambien fuera el agua viva, Parte la bana, y parte se despeña
Con rapida corriente fugitiva: Despues distinto un largo arroyo enseña Que por diversas partes se derriba, Con diferente curso en vario modo, Hasta que á donde nace buelve todo. "Otra, que alta descubre ancho Orizonte, Como agraviada del lugar segundo Sustenta un monstruo que parece un monte, Qual Atlante que tiene en peso el mundo: Y como suele el caudaloso Oronte
Dar el ancho tributo al mar profundo,
His sister came; she scarcely touch'd the rock, So light was Hermesind's aerial speed. Beauty and grace and innocence in her In heavenly union shone. One who had held The faith of elder Greece, would sure have thought She was some glorious nymph of seed divine, Oread or Dryad, of Diana's train
The youngest and the loveliest: yea she seem'd Angel, or soul beatified, from realms Of bliss, on errand of parental love
To earth re-sent, . . if tears and trembling limbs With such celestial natures might consist.
Embraced by all, in turn embracing each, The husband and the father for awhile Forgot his country and all things beside: Life hath few moments of such pure delight, Such foretaste of the perfect joy of Heaven. And when the thought recurr'd of sufferings past, Perils which threaten'd still, and arduous toil Yet to be undergone, remember'd griefs Heighten'd the present happiness; and hope Upon the shadows of futurity
Shone like the sun upon the morning mists, When driven before his rising rays they roll, And melt and leave the prospect bright and clear.
When now Pelayo's eyes had drunk their fill Of love from those dear faces, he went up To view the hiding place. Spacious it was As that Sicilian cavern in the hill Wherein earth-shaking Neptune's giant son Duly at eve was wont to fold his flock, Ere the wise Ithacan, over that brute force By wiles prevailing, for a life-long night Seel'd his broad eye. The healthful air had here Free entrance, and the cheerful light of heaven; But at the end, an opening in the floor Of rock disclosed a wider vault below, Which never sun-beam visited, nor breath
Assi se arroja con furiosas ondas, Por las partes mas baxas y mas hondas. "Sale bramando la tercera fuente,
Como un mar, y despues por el arena Va con tan mansa y placida corriente Tan grata y sossegada, y tan serena, Que á las fieras, ganados, peces, gente,
Puede aplacar la sed, menguar la pena,
Y da despues la buelta, y forma el cuerno De la Luna, imitando el curso eterno.
"Nace la quarta de una gran caverna, Y siguiendo su prospera derrota Parece que por arte se govierna, Segun va destilando gota á gota: No vido antigua edad, edad moderna En region muy propinqua, ó muy remota, Fuente tan peregrina, obra tan nueva, En gruta artificiosa, ó tosca cueva."
Restauracion de España, lib. ii. f. 27.
Morales has given a minute description both of the scenery and antiquities of this memorable place. The Conde de Saldueña evidently had it before him. I also am greatly indebted to this faithful and excellent author.
Of vivifying morning came to cheer.
No light was there but that which from above In dim reflection fell, or found its way, Broken and quivering, through the glassy stream, Where through the rock it gush'd. That shadowy light Sufficed to show, where froin their secret bed The waters issued; with whose rapid course, And with whose everlasting cataracts Such motion to the chill damp atmosphere Was given, as if the solid walls of rock Were shaken with the sound,
The upper air, Pelayo hasten'd back From that drear den.
Look! Hermesind exclaim'd, Taking her father's hand, thou hast not seen My chamber: . . See!.. did ever ring-dove chuse In so secure a nook her hiding-place,
Or build a warmer nest? 'Tis fragrant too, As warm, and not more sweet than soft; for thyme And myrtle with the elastic heath are laid, And, over all, this dry and pillowy moss... Smiling she spake. Pelayo kiss'd the child, And, sighing, said within himself, I trust In Heaven, whene'er thy May of life is come, Sweet bird, that thou shalt have a blither bower! Fitlier, he thought, such chamber might beseem Some hermit of Hilarion's school austere, Or old Antonius, he who from the hell Of his bewilder'd phantasy saw fiends In actual vision, a foul throng grotesque Of all horrific shapes and forms obscene Crowd in broad day before his open eyes. That feeling cast a momentary shade
Of sadness o'er his soul. But deeper thoughts, If he might have foreseen the things to come, Would there have fill'd him; for within that cave His own remains were one day doom'd to find Their final place of rest; and in that spot, Where that dear child with innocent delight Had spread her mossy couch, the sepulchre Shall in the consecrated rock be hewn, Where with Alphonso, her beloved lord, Laid side by side, must Hermesind partake The everlasting marriage-bed, when he, Leaving a name perdurable on earth,
Hath changed his earthly for a heavenly crown. Dear child, upon that fated spot she stood, In all the beauty of her opening youth, In health's rich bloom, in virgin innocence, While her eyes sparkled and her heart o'erflow'd With pure and perfect joy of filial love.
Many a slow century since that day hath fill'd Its course, and countless multitudes have trod With pilgrim feet that consecrated cave; Yet not in all those ages, amid all
The untold concourse, hath one breast been swoln With such emotions as Pelayo felt That hour. O Gaudiosa, he exclaim'd, And thou couldst seek for shelter here, amid This aweful solitude, in mountain caves! Thou noble spirit! Oh when hearts like thine Grow on this sacred soil, would it not be In me, thy husband, double infamy, And tenfold guilt, if I despair'd of Spain? In all her visitations, favouring Heaven
Hath left her still the unconquerable mind; And thus being worthy of redemption, sure Is she to be redeem'd.
Through tears he spake, and prest upon her lips A kiss of deepest love. Think ever thus, She answer'd, and that faith will give the power In which it trusts. When to this mountain hold These children, thy dear images, I brought, I said within myself, where should they fly But to the bosom of their native hills? I brought them here as to a sanctuary, Where, for the temple's sake, the indwelling God Would guard his supplicants. O my dear Lord, Proud as I was to know that they were thine, Was it a sin if I almost believed, That Spain, her destiny being link'd with theirs, Must save the precious charge?
The chief replied, so feel and teach and act. Spain is our common parent: let the sons Be to the parent true, and in her strength And Heaven, their sure deliverance they will find.
O HOLIEST Mary, Maid and Mother! thou In Covadonga, at thy rocky shrine,
Hast witness'd whatsoe'er of human bliss Heart can conceive most perfect! Faithful love, Long crost by envious stars, hath there attain'd Its crown, in endless matrimony given; The youthful mother there hath to the font Her first-born borne, and there, with deeper sense Of gratitude for that dear babe redeem'd From threatening death, return'd to pay her vows. But ne'er on nuptial, nor baptismal day, Nor from their grateful pilgrimage discharged, Did happier group their way down Deva's vale Rejoicing hold, than this blest family,
O'er whom the mighty Spirit of the Land Spread his protecting wings. The children, free In youthhead's happy season from all cares That might disturb the hour, yet capable Of that intense and unalloy'd delight Which childhood feels when it enjoys again The dear parental presence long deprived; Nor were the parents now less bless'd than they, Even to the height of human happiness; For Gaudiosa and her Lord that hour Let no misgiving thoughts intrude; she fix'd Her hopes on him, and his were fix'd on Heaven; And hope in that courageous heart derived Such rooted strength and confidence assured In righteousness, that 'twas to him like faith.. An everlasting sunshine of the soul, Illumining and quickening all its powers.
But on Pionia's side meantime a heart As generous, and as full of noble thoughts, Lay stricken with the deadliest bolts of grief. Upon a smooth grey stone sate Roderick there;
The wind above him stirr'd the hazel boughs, And murmuring at his feet the river ran. He sate with folded arms and head declined Upon his breast feeding on bitter thoughts, Till nature gave him in the exhausted sense Of woe a respite something like repose; And then the quiet sound of gentle winds And waters with their lulling consonance Beguiled him of himself. Of all within Oblivious there he sate, sentient alone
Of outward nature, . . of the whispering leaves That soothed his ear,.. the genial breath of Heaven That fann'd his cheek,.. the stream's perpetual flow,
That, with its shadows and its glancing lights, Dimples and thread-like motions infinite, For ever varying and yet still the same, Like time toward eternity, ran by. Resting his head upon his master's knees, Upon the bank beside him Theron lay. What matters change of state and circumstance, Or lapse of years, with all their dread events, To him? What matters it that Roderick wears The crown no longer, nor the sceptre wields?.. It is the dear-loved hand, whose friendly touch Had flatter'd him so oft; it is the voice,
At whose glad summons to the field so oft From slumber he had started, shaking off Dreams of the chace, to share the actual joy; The eye, whose recognition he was wont To watch and welcome with exultant tongue.
A coming step, unheard by Roderick, roused His watchful ear, and turning he beheld Siverian. Father, said the good old man, As Theron rose and fawn'd about his knees, Hast thou some charm, which draws about thee thus The hearts of all our house,.. even to the beast
| That lacks discourse of reason, but too oft, With uncorrupted feeling and dumb faith, Puts lordly man to shame?.. The king replied, 'Tis that mysterious sense by which mankind To fix their friendships and their loves are led, And which with fainter influence doth extend To such poor things as this. As we put off The cares and passions of this fretful world, It may be too that we thus far approach To elder nature, and regain in part The privilege through sin in Eden lost. The timid hare soon learns that she may trust The solitary penitent, and birds
Will light upon the hermit's harmless hand.'
"Con mil mortificaciones
Sus passiones crucifican,
Porque ellas de todo mueran Porque el alma solo viva.
Hazen por huyr al ocio
Cestos, y espuertas texidas De las hojas de las palmas Que alli crecen sin medida. Los arboles, y las plantas
Porque á su gusto los sirvan Para esto vergas offrecen, De las mas tiernas que crian. Tambien de corcho hazen vasos Cuentas, Cruzes, y baxillas, Cuyo modo artificioso El oro, y la plata embidian Este los cilicios texe, Aquel haze diciplinas, El otro las calaveras En tosco palo esculpidas. Uno á sombra del aliso,
Con la escritura divina Misticos sentidos saca De sus literales minas. Otro junto de la fuente
Que murmura en dulce risa Mira en los libros las obras De los santos Eremitas. Qual cerca del arroyuelo
Que saltando corre aprissa, Discurre como á la muerte Corre sin parar la vida. Qual con un Christe abraçado Besandole las heridas, Herido de sus dolores
A sus pies llora, y suspira. Qual en las flores que al campo Entre esmeraldas matizan, Las grandezas soberanas Del immenso autor medita. Qual subida en las piçarras
Que plata, y perlas distilan,
Con lagrimas acrecienta
Su corriente cristalina. Qual á las fieras convoca,
Las aves llama, y combida A que al criador de todo Alaben agradecidas. Qual immoble todo el cuerpo, Con las acciones perdidas, Tiene arrebatada el alma Alla donde amando anima. Y de aquel extasi quando Parece que resuscita,
Dize con razon que muere Porque no perdio lo vida. La fuerça de amor á vezes Sueño, y reposo los quita, Y saliendo de su estancia Buscan del Cielo la vista. Quando serena la noche Clara se descubre Cynthia, Bordando de azul, y plata El postrer mobil que pisa; Quando al oro de su hermano No puede tener embidia, Que llena del que le presta Haze de la noche dia; Del baculo acompañado El amante Anachorita Solo por las soledades Solitarios pasos guia.
Y parando entre el silencio Les claras estrellas mira Que le deleitan por obra De la potencia divina.
En altas bozes alaba
Sin tener quien se lo impida
Al amador soberano Cuya gracia solicita. Contempla sus perfeciones, Sus grandezas soleniza, Sus misericordias canta, Sus excelencias publica.
Thus Roderick answer'd in excursive speech, Thinking to draw the old man's mind from what Might touch him else too nearly, and himself Disposed to follow on the lure he threw, As one whom such imaginations led Out of the world of his own miseries. But to regardless ears his words were given, For on the dog Siverian gazed the while, Pursuing his own thoughts. Thou hast not felt, Exclaim'd the old man, the earthquake and the storm; The kingdom's overthrow, the wreck of Spain, The ruin of thy royal master's house,
Have reach'd not thee!.. Then turning to the King, When the destroying enemy drew nigh Toledo, he continued, and we fled Before their fury, even while her grief
Was fresh, my Mistress would not leave behind This faithful creature. Well we knew she thought Of Roderick then, although she named him not; For never since the fatal certainty
Fell on us all, hath that unhappy name, Save in her prayers, been known to pass her lips Before this day. She names him now, and weeps; But now her tears are tears of thankfulness, For blessed hath thy coming been to her And all who loved the King.
His faltering voice Here fail'd him, and he paused: recovering soon, When that poor injured Lady, he pursued, Did in my presence to the Prince absolve The unhappy King..
Absolve him! Roderick cried, And in that strong emotion turn'd his face Sternly toward Siverian, for the sense Of shame and self-reproach drove from his mind All other thoughts. The good old man replied, Of human judgements humanly I speak. Who knows not what Pelayo's life hath been?
La noche atenta entre tanto
Callando porque el prosiga. Cruxen los vezinos ramos, Y blando el viento respira. Gimen las aves nocturnas
Por hazerle compania, Suenan las fuentes, y arroyos, Retumban las penas frias. Todo ayuda al solitario Mientras con el alma fixa En sus queridos amores Contemplandolos se alivia."
Soledades de Busaco. Fuller, the Worthy, has a beautiful passage in his Church History concerning "Primitive Monks with their Piety and Painfulness."-" When the furnace of persecution in the infancy of Christianity was grown so hot, that most cities, towns, and populous places were visited with that epidemical disease, many pious men fled into deserts, there to live with more safety, and serve God with less disturbance. No wild humour to make themselves miserable, and to choose and court their own calamity, put them on this project, much less any superstitious opinion of transcendent sanctity in a solitary life, made them willingly to leave their former habitations. For whereas all men by their birth are indebted to their country, there to stay and discharge all civil relations, it had been dishonesty in them like bankrupts to run away into the wilderness to defraud their country, their creditor, except some violent occasion (such as persecution was) forced them
Not happier in all dear domestic ties, Than worthy for his virtue of the bliss Which is that virtue's fruit; and yet did he Absolve, upon Florinda's tale, the King. Siverian, thus he said, what most I hoped, And still within my secret heart believed, Is now made certain. Roderick hath been More sinn'd against than sinning. And with that He clasp'd his hands, and, lifting them to Heaven, Cried, Would to God that he were yet alive! For not more gladly did I draw my sword Against Witiza in our common cause, Than I would fight beneath his banners now, And vindicate his name!
The Prince? Pelayo? in astonishment Roderick exclaim'd... He said it, quoth the old man. None better knew his kinsman's noble heart, None loved him better, none bewail'd him more: And as he felt, like me, for his reproach A deeper grief than for his death, even so He cherish'd in his heart the constant thought Something was yet untold, which, being known, Would palliate his offence, and make the fall Of one till then so excellently good, Less monstrous, less revolting to belief, More to be pitied, more to be forgiven.
While thus he spake, the fallen King felt his face Burn, and his blood flow fast. Down, guilty thoughts! Firmly he said within his soul; lie still,
Thou heart of flesh! I thought thou hadst been quell'd, And quell'd thou shalt be! Help me, O my God, That I may crucify this inward foe!
Yea, thou hast help'd me, Father! I am strong, O Saviour, in thy strength.
As he breath'd thus His inward supplications, the old man
thereunto; and this was the first original of monks in the world, so called from moves, because living alone by themselves.
"Here they in the deserts hoped to find rocks and stocks, yea beasts themselves, more kind than men had been to them. What would hide and heat, cover and keep warm, served them for clothes, not placing (as their successors in after ages) any holiness in their habit, folded up in the affected fashion thereof. As for their food, the grass was their cloth, the ground their table, herbs and roots their diet, wild fruits and berries their dainties, hunger their sauce, their nails their knives, their hands their cups, the next well their wine-cellar; but what their bill of fare wanted in cheer it had in grace, their life being constantly spent in prayer, reading, musing, and such like pious employments. They turned solitariness itself into society; and cleaving themselves asun- ! der by the divine art of meditation, did make of one, two or or more, opposing, answering, moderating in their ost bosoms, and busy in themselves with variety of heavenly recreations. It would do one good even but to think of their goodness, and at the rebound and second hand to meditate upon their meditations. For if ever poverty was to be envied it was here. And I appeal to the moderate men of these times whether, in the height of these woeful wars, they have not sometimes wisht (not out of passionate distemper, but serious recollection of themselves) some such private place to retire unto, where, out of the noise of this clamorous world, they might have reposed themselves, and served God with more quiet."
Eyed him with frequent and unsteady looks. He had a secret trembling on his lips, And hesitated, still irresolute
In utterance to embody the dear hope: Fain would he have it strengthen'd and assured By this concording judgement, yet he fear'd To have it chill'd in cold accoil. At length Venturing, he brake with interrupted speech The troubled silence. Father Maccabee, I cannot rest till I have laid my heart Open before thee. When Pelayo wish'd That his poor kinsman were alive to rear His banner once again, a sudden thought.. A hope.. a fancy.. what shall it be call'd? Possess'd me, that perhaps the wish might see Its glad accomplishment, that Roderick lived, And might in glory take the field once more For Spain.. I see thou startest at the thought! Yet spurn it not with hasty unbelief,
As though 'twere utterly beyond the scope Of possible contingency. I think
That I have calmly satisfied myself How this is more than idle fancy, more Than mere imaginations of a mind
Which from its wishes builds a baseless faith. His horse, his royal robe, his horned helm, His mail and sword were found upon the field; But if King Roderick had in battle fallen, That sword, I know, would only have been found Clench'd in the hand which, living, knew so well To wield the dreadful steel! Not in the throng Confounded, nor amid the torpid stream, Opening with ignominious arms a way
For flight, would he have perish'd! Where the strife Was hottest, ring'd about with slaughter'd foes, Should Roderick have been found: by this sure mark Ye should have known him, if nought else remain'd, That his whole body had been gored with wounds, And quill'd with spears, as if the Moors had felt That in his single life the victory lay, More than in all the host!
Shone with a youthful ardour while he spake, His gathering brow grew stern, and as he raised His arm, a warrior's impulse character'd The impassion'd gesture. But the King was calm And heard him with unchanging countenance;
For he had taken his resolve, and felt Once more the peace of God within his soul, As in that hour when by his father's grave He knelt before Pelayo.
Soon the old man Pursued in calmer tones,. Thus much I dare Believe, that Roderick fell not on that day When treason brought about his overthrow. If yet he live, for sure I think I know His noble mind, 'tis in some wilderness, Where, in some savage den inhumed, he drags The weary load of life, and on his flesh As on a mortal enemy, inflicts Fierce vengeance with immitigable hand. Oh that I knew but where to bend my way In his dear search! my voice perhaps might reach His heart, might reconcile him to himself, Restore him to his mother ere she dies, His people and his country: with the sword,
Of sin, he answered, or if earth hath given Rest to his earthly part, is only known To him and Heaven. Dead is he to the world; And let not these imaginations rob
His soul of thy continual prayers, whose aid Too surely, in whatever world, he needs. The faithful love that mitigates his fault, Heavenward addrest, may mitigate his doom. Living or dead, old man, be sure his soul,.. It were unworthy else,.. doth hold with thine Entire communion! Doubt not he relies Firmly on thee, as on a father's love, Counts on thy offices, and joins with thee In sympathy and fervent act of faith, Though regions, or though worlds, should intervene. Lost as he is, to Roderick this must be
Thy first, best, dearest duty; next must be To hold right onward in that noble path,
Which he would counsel, could his voice be heard.
Now therefore aid me, while I call upon The Leaders and the People, that this day We may acclaim Pelayo for our King.
Now, when from Covadonga, down the vale Holding his way, the princely mountaineer Came with that happy family in sight Of Cangas and his native towers, far off He saw before the gate, in fair array, The assembled land. Broad banners were display'd, And spears were sparkling to the sun, shields shone, And helmets glitter'd, and the blairing horn, With frequent sally of impatient joy, Provoked the echoes round. Well he areeds, From yonder ensigns and augmented force, That Odoar and the Primate from the west Have brought their aid; but wherefore all were thus Instructed as for some great festival, He found not, till Favila's quicker eye
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