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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? Bow hope Almighty vengeance shall delay,

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Unless, in mercy to yon christian host,

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Lo, Destiny and Time! to whom by Heaven

spare the shepherd, lest the guiltless sheep be The guidance of the earth is for a season given.»—

lost ?»

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!

fet will I know whence come they, or by whom. Show, for thou canst-give forth the fated key, ind 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,

lis nation's future fate a Spanish king shall see.»- -(6) And gave to Roderick's view new sights of fear and

XI.

-fated prince! recal the desperate word, Or pause ere yet the omen thou obey! ethink yon spell-bound portal would afford Never to former monarch entrance-way;

for shall it ever ope, old records say,

Save to a king, the last of all his line,

That time his empire totters to decay,

And treason digs, beneath, her fatal mine,

ind, high above, impends avenging wrath divine.»

XII.

Prelate! a monarch's fate brooks no delay; Lead on!-the ponderous key the old man took, ad held the winking lamp, and led the way, By winding stair, dark aisle, and secret nook, ben on an ancient gate-way bent his look; And, as the key the desperate king essay'd, G-mutter'd thunders the cathedral shook,

And twice he stopp'd, and twice new effort made,

wonder.

XVII.

For they might spy, beyond that mighty breach,
Realms as of Spain in vision'd prospect laid,
Castles and towers, in due proportion each,
As by some skilful artist's hand portray'd :
Here, cross'd by many a wild Sierra's shade,
And boundless plains that tire the traveller's eye;
There, rich with vineyard and with olive glade,

Or deep-embrown'd by forests huge and high, Or wash'd by mighty streams, that slowly murmur'd by.

XVIII.

And here, as erst upon the antique stage
Pass'd forth the bands of masquers trimly led,
In various forms, and various equipage,
While fitting strains the hearer's fancy fed;
So to sad Roderick's eye in order spread,
Successive pageants fill'd that mystic scene,
Showing the fate of battles ere they bled,
And issue of events that had not been;

the huge bolts roll'd back, and the loud hinges And ever and anon strange sounds were heard between. bray'd.

XIII.

sag, large, and lofty, was that vaulted hall;

Roof, walls, and floor, were all of marble stone,
f polish'd marble, black as funeral pall,
Carved o'er with signs and characters unknown.
ipaly light, as of the dawning, shone

Through the sad bounds, but whence they could not

spy;

or window to the upper air was none;

Yet by that light, Don Roderick could descry fonders that ne'er till then were seen by mortal eye. XIV.

rim sentinels, against the upper wall,

Of molten bronze, two statues held their place; lassive their naked limbs, their stature tall, Their frowning foreheads golden circles grace. kulded they seem'd for kings of giant race, That lived and sinn'd before the avenging flood; fis grasp'd a scythe, that rested on a mace;

This spreads his wings for flight, that pondering stood,

Each stubborn seem'd and stern, immutable of mood.

XIX.

First shrill'd an unrepeated female shriek!—

It seem'd as if Don Roderick knew the call,
For the bold blood was blanching in his cheek.—
Then answer'd kettle-drum and atabal,
Gong-peal and cymbal-clank the ear appal,

The Tecbir war-cry, and the Lelies' yell, (7)
Ring wildly dissonant along the hall.

Needs not to Roderick their dread import tell

« The Moor," he cried, << the Moor!-ring out the tocsin bell!

XX.

They come they come! I see the groaning lands
White with the turbans of each Arab horde,
Swart Zaarah joins her misbelieving bands,
Alla and Mahomet their battle-word,
The choice they yield, the koran or the sword.-
See how the christians rush to arms amain!
In yonder shout the voice of conflict roar'd!

The shadowy hosts are closing on the plain-
Now, God and Saint Jago strike, for the good cause of
Spain !

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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 field— Is not yon steed Orelia?—Yes, 't is mine! (8) But never was she turn'd from battle-line;

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

Rivers ingulph him!»-« Hush !» in shuddering tone, The prelate said; «rash prince, yon visiou'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 mau 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.
Him follow'd his companion, dark and sage,

And for their bondsmen base the free-born natives As he, my master, sung, the dangerous Archimage.

brand.

XXIII.

Then rose the grated harem, to inclose

'The loveliest maidens of the christian line; Then, menials to their misbelieving foes,

Castile's young nobles held forbidden wine; Then, too, the holy cross, salvation's sign,

By impious hands was from the altar thrown,

And the deep aisles of the polluted shrine
Echoed, for holy hymn and organ-tone,

XXIX.

Haughty of heart and brow the warrior came,
In look and language proud as proud might be,
Vaunting his lordship, lineage, fights, and fame,
Yet was that bare-foot monk more proud than be.
And as the ivy climbs the tallest tree,

So round the loftiest soul his toils he wound, And with his spells subdued the fierce and free, Till ermined Age, and Youth in arms renown'd,

The santon's frantic dance, the fakir's gibbering moan. Ilonouring his scourge and hair-cloth, meekly kiss d

XXIV.

How fares Don Roderick ?-E'en as one who spies
Flames dart their glare o'er midnight's sable woof,
And hears around his children's piercing cries,
And sees the pale assistants stand aloof;
While cruel conscience brings him bitter proof,
His folly, or his crime, have caused his grief,
And, while above him nods the crumbling roof,

He curses earth and heaven-himself in chiefDesperate of earthly aid, despairing Heaven's relief! XXV.

That scythe-arm'd giant turn'd his fatal glass,

And twilight on the landscape closed her wings; Far to Asturian hills the war-sounds pass,

And in their stead rebeck or timbrel rings;
And to the sound the bell-deck'd dancer springs,
Bazaars resound as when their marts are met,

In tourney light the Moor his jerrid flings,
And on the land, as evening seem'd to set,

the ground.

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And thus it chanced that Valour, peerless knight,
Who ne'er to king or kaisar veil'd his crest,

Victorious still in bull-feast or in fight,

Since first his limbs with mail he did invest, Stoop'd ever to that anchoret's behest;

Nor reason'd of the right, nor of the wrong, But at his bidding laid the lance in rest,

And wrought fell deeds the troubled world slong. For he was fierce as brave, and pitiless as strong. XXXI.

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 fre
Idols of gold, from heathen temples torn,
Bedabbled all with blood.-With grisly scowl.

The imaum's chaunt was heard from mosque or mi- The hermit mark'd the stains, and smiled beneath an

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Whose sulph'rous wreaths were cross'd by sheets of And at his word the choral hymns awake,

flame;

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;
Lightning and smoke her breath, and thunder was her

tone.

And many a hand the silver censer sways. But with the incense breath these censers raise, Mix steams from corpses smouldering in the fire. The groans of prison'd victims mar the lays, And shrieks of agony confound the quire, While, mid the mingled sounds, the darken'd soep expire.

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 had 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 abroad-
It 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,

Sweet stoop'd the western sun, sweet rose the evening He saw her hideous face, and loved the fiend unmask'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.

Een 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;

XLII.

That prelate mark'd his march-On banners blazed
With battles won in many a distant land,

On eagle-standards and on arms he gazed;

And hopest thou then,» he said, «thy power shall

stand?

O thou hast builded on the shifting sand,
And thou hast temper'd it with slaughter's flood;
And know, fell scourge in the Almighty's hand!
Gore-moisten'd trees shall perish in the bud,
And by a bloody death shall die the man of blood !»-
XLIII.

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, « Cas-
tile!» (10)

Not that he loved him-No!-in no man's weal,
Scarce in his own, e'er joy'd that sullen heart;

Then, burst were honour's oath, and friendship's Yet round that throne he bade his warriors wheel, ties!

That the poor puppet might perform his part,

He clutch'd his vulture-grasp, and call'd fair Spain his And be a sceptred slave, at his stern beck to start. 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 on a monarch's throne,
Reck'd not of monarch's faith, or mercy's kingly tone.

XLIV.

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XLV.

That mimic monarch now cast anxious eye
Upon the satraps that begirt him round,
Now doffd 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 choak'd 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 cry,

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 cher

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 Oc

come!

LVII.

A various host they came-whose ranks display
Each mode in which the warrior meets the fight,
The deep battalion locks its firm array,

And meditates his aim the marksman light; •
Far glance the beams of sabres flashing bright,
Where mounted squadrons shake the echoing mead,
Lacks not artillery breathing flame and night,

Nor the fleet ordnance whirl'd by rapid steed,
That rival's lightning's flash in ruin and in speed.
LVIII.

A various host-from kindred realms they came,
Brethren in arms, but rivals in renown-
For yon fair bands shall merry England claim,

And with their deeds of valour deck her crowu.
Hers their bold part, and hers their martial frown,
And hers their scorn of death in freedom's cause,
Their eyes of azure, and their locks of brown,

And the blunt speech that bursts without a pause, And freeborn thoughts, which league the soldier with the laws.

LIX.

And Oh! loved warriors of the minstrel's land!

Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave! The rugged form may mark the mountain band, And harsher features, and a mien more grave; But ne'er in battle-field throbb'd heart so brave As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid, And when the pibroch bids the battle rave,

And level for the charge your arms are laid, Where lives the desperate foe that for such onset staid !

LX.

Hark! from you stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy,
His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings,
And moves to death with military glee:
Boast, Erin, boast them! tameless, frank, and free,
In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known,
Rough Nature's children, humorous as she:

And be, yon chieftain-strike the proudest tone
Of thy bold harp, green Isle !—the hero is thine own.

LXI.

Now on the scene Vimeira should be shown,
On Talavera's fight should Roderick gaze,
And hear Corunna wail her battle won,

And see Busaco's crest with lightning blaze:-
But shail food fable mix with heroes' praise?
Hath Fiction's stage for Truth's long triumphs room?
And dare her flowers mingle with the bays,
That claim a long eternity to bloom

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« WHO shall command Estrella's mountain tide
Back to the source, when tempest-chafed to hie!
Who, when Gascogne's vex'd gulph is raging wide,
Shall hush it as a nurse her infant's cry!
His magic power let such vain boaster try,
And when the torrent shall his voice obey,
And Biscay's whirlwinds list his lullaby,

Let him stand forth and bar mine eagles' way,
And they shall heed his voice, and at his bidding stay.
II.

« Else ne'er to stoop, till high on Lisbon's towers
They close their wings, the symbol of our yoke,
And their own sea hath whelm'd yon red-cross powers!»>
Thus, on the summit of Alverca's rock,

To marshal, duke, and peer, Gaul's leader spoke.
While downward on the land his legions press,
Before them it was rich with vine and flock,

And smiled like Eden in her summer dress;Behind their wasteful march a reeking wilderness. (14)

III.

And shall the boastful chief maintain his word, Though Heaven hath heard the wailings of the land, Though Lusitania whet her vengeful sword,

Though Britons arm, and Wellington command!
No! grim Busaco's iron ridge shall stand

An adamantine barrier to his force!
And from its base shall wheel his shatter'd band,
As from the unshaken rock the torrent hoarse

Around the warrior's crest, and o'er the warrior's Bears off its broken waves, and seeks a devious course. tomb?

LXII.

Or may I give adventurous Fancy scope,
And stretch a bold hand to the awful veil
That hides futurity from anxious hope,
Bidding beyond it scenes of glory hail,
And painting Europe rousing at the tale

Of Spain's invaders from her confines hurl'd,
While kindling nations buckle on their mail,

And Fame, with clarion blast and wings unfurl'd, To freedom and revenge awakes an injured world!

IV.

Yet not because Alcoba's mountain hawk,

Hath on his best and bravest made her food, In numbers confident, yon chief shall baulk

His lord's imperial thirst for spoil and blood; For full in view the promised conquest stood, And Lisbon's matrons, from their walls, might sum The myriads that had half the world subdued, And hear the distant thunders of the drum, That bids the bands of France to storm and havoc

come.

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