His fortune, not his crimes. With bolder front,
Confiding in his priestly character,
Came Orpas next; and then the spurious race
Whom in unhappy hour Favila's wife
Brought forth for Spain. O mercy ill bestow'd,
When Roderick, in compassion for their youth,
And for Pelayo's sake, forebore to crush
Err perchance he might, Replied the Goth, suppressing as he spake All outward signs of pain, though every word Went like a dagger to his bleeding heart; .. But sure, I ween, that error is not placed Among his sins. Old man, thou mayest regret The mercy ill deserved, and worse return'd, But not for this wouldst thou reproach the King!
Reproach him? cried Siverian;.. I reproach My child,.. my noble boy,.. whom every tongue Bless'd at that hour,.. whose love fill'd every heart With joy, and every eye with joyful tears! My brave, my beautiful, my generous boy! Brave, beautiful, and generous as he was, Never so brave, so beautiful, so great As then,.. not even on that glorious day, When on the field of victory, elevate Amid the thousands who acclaim'd him King, Firm on the shield above their heads upraised, Erect he stood, and waved his bloody sword... Why dost thou shake thy head as if in doubt? I do not dream, nor fable! Ten short❜years Have scarcely past away, since all within
The Pyrenean hills, and the three seas
Which girdle Spain, echoed in one response
The acclamation from that field of fight...
Or doth aught ail thee, that thy body quakes
And shudders thus ?
'Tis but a chill, replied
The King, in passing from the open air
Under the shadow of this thick-set grove.
Oh! if this scene awoke in thee such thoughts As swell my bosom here, the old man pursued, Sunshine, or shade, and all things from without, Would be alike indifferent. Gracious God,
Only but ten short years, and all so changed!
Ten little years since in yon court he check'd
His fiery steeds. The steeds obey'd his hand,
The whirling wheels stood still, and when he leapt
Upon the pavement, the whole people heard,
In their deep silence, open-ear'd, the sound.
With slower movement from the ivory seat
Rusilla rose, her arm, as down she stept,
Extended to her son's supporting hand;
Not for default of firm or agile strength,
But that the feeling of that solemn hour
Subdued her then, and tears bedimm'd her sight.
Howbeit when to her husband's grave she came,
On the sepulchral stone she bow'd her head
Awhile; then rose collectedly, and fix'd
Upon the scene her calm and steady eye.
Roderick,.. oh when did valour wear a form
So beautiful, so noble, so august?
vengeance, when did it put on before
A character so aweful, so divine?
Roderick stood up, and reaching to the tomb
His hands, my hero cried, Theodofred!
Father! I stand before thee once again,
According to thy prayer, when kneeling down.
Between thy knees I took my last farewell;
And vow'd by all thy sufferings, all thy wrongs,
And by my mother's days and nights of woe,
Her silent anguish, and the grief which then
Even from thee she did not seek to hide,
That if our cruel parting should avail
To save me from the Tyrant's jealous guilt,
Surely should my avenging sword fulfil
Whate'er he omen'd. Oh that time, I cried,
Would give the strength of manhood to this arm,
Already would it find a manly heart
To guide it to its purpose! And I swore
Never again to see my father's face,
Nor ask my mother's blessing, till I brought,
Dead or in chains, the Tyrant to thy feet.
Boy as I was, before all Saints in Heaven,
And highest God, whose justice slumbereth not,
I made the vow. According to thy prayer,
In all things, O my father, is that vow
Perform'd, alas too well! for thou didst pray,
While looking up I felt the burning tears
Which from thy sightless sockets stream'd, drop down,..
That to thy grave, and not thy living feet,
The oppressor might be led. Behold him there, . . Father! Theodofred! no longer now
In darkness, from thy heavenly seat look down,
And see before thy grave thine enemy
In bonds, awaiting judgment at my hand!
Thus while the hero spake, Witiza stood Listening in agony, with open mouth,
And head, half-raised, toward his sentence turn'd;
His eye-lids stiffen'd and pursed up,.. his eyes
Rigid, and wild, and wide; and when the King
Had ceased, amid the silence which ensued,
The dastard's chains were heard, link against link
Clinking. At length upon his knees he fell,
And lifting up his trembling hands, outstretch'd
In supplication,.. Mercy! he exclaim'd,..
Chains, dungeons, darkness,.. any thing but death!..
I did not touch his life.
His hour, whenever it had come, had found
A soul prepared: he lived in peace with Heaven,
And life prolong'd for him, was bliss delay'd.
But life, in pain and darkness and despair,
For thee, all leprous as thou art with crimes,
Take him hence, and let him see
The light of day no more!
When last I saw these courts,.. his theatre
Of glory; . . such when last I visited
My master's grave! Ten years have hardly held
ten little years. . break, break, old
Oh why art thou so tough!
They reach'd the church. The door before his hand
Gave way; both blinded with their tears, they went
Straight to the tomb; and there Siverian knelt,
And bow'd his face upon the sepulchre,
Weeping aloud; while Roderick, overpower'd,
And calling upon earth to cover him,
Threw himself prostrate on his father's grave.
Thus as they lay, an aweful voice in tones
Severe address'd them. Who are ye, it said,
That with your passion thus, and on this night,
Disturb my prayers? Starting they rose; there stood
Á man before them of majestic form
And stature, clad in sackcloth, bare of foot,
Pale, and in tears, with ashes on his head.
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