And issue of events that had not been; And ever and anon strange sounds were heard between.

Through the sad bounds, but whence they could" The Moor!" he cried, "the Moor!-ring out

His sword was tempered in the Ebro cold,
Morena's eagle-plume adorned his crest,
The spoils of Afric's lion bound his breast.

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 hurled,— 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, The hermit marked the stains, and smiled beneath his cowl.

XXXII.

Then did he bless the offering, and bade make
Tribute to heaven of gratitude and praise;
And at his word the choral hymns awake,

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 prisoned victims mar the lays,
And shrieks of agony confound the quire,
While, 'mid the mingled sounds, the darkened
scenes 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 blith, with gay Muchacha met,9
He conscious of his broidered cap and band,

She of her netted locks and light corsette,
Each tiptoe perched to spring, and shake the cas-

tanet.

XXXIV.

And well such strains the opening scene became;
For VALOUR had relaxed his ardent look,

And at a lady's feet, like lion tame,

Lay stretched, full loth the weight of arms to
brook;

And softened BIGOTRY, upon his book,
Pattered a task of little good or ill:

But the blith peasant plied his pruning hook,
Whistled the muletcer o'er vale and hill,

Fierce he stepped forward, and flung down his And rung from village-green the merry seguidille.

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 he.
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 renowned,
Honouring his scourge and hair-cloth, meekly
kissed the ground.
XXX.

And thus it chanced that VALOUR, peerless knight,
Who ne'er to king or kaisar veiled his crest,
Victorious still in bull-feast, or in fight,

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

Nor reasoned of the right, nor of the wrong, But at his bidding laid the lance in rest,

And wro't fell deeds the troubled world along, For he was fierce as brave, and pitiless as strong.

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 joyed 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 hang,
Nor brooked they long their friendly faith abused
For, with a common shriek, the general tongue
Exclaimed, "To arms!" and fast to arms they

And for the soul that bade him waste the earth-So oft, so near, the patriot bugle wound,
The 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 im-
XL.

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

pure.

Before that leader strode a shadowy form:

Her limbs like mist, her torch like meteor show'd, With which she beckoned him through fight and storm,

And all he crushed that crossed his desperate road,

Nor thought, nor feared, nor looked 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 deigned she, as of yore, a milder form to take.

XLI.

No longer now she spurned at mean revenge,
Or staid her hand for conquered foeman's moan,
As when, the fates of aged Rome to change,

By Caesar's side she crossed the Rubicon;
Nor joyed she to bestow the spoils she won,
As when the banded powers of Greece were
tasked

To war beneath the youth of Macedon:

No seemly veil her modern minion asked, He saw her hideous face, and loved the fiend unmasked.

XLII.

That prelate marked his march-On banners blaz'd
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 tempered it with slaughter's flood; And know, fell scourge in the Almighty's hand!

Gore-moistened trees shall perish in the bud,
And by a bloody death shall die the man of blood!"
XLIII.

The ruthless leader beckoned from his train,
A wan fraternal shade, and bade him kneel,

To guard awhile his substituted throne-
Light recking of his cause, but battling for their
XLVI.

own.

From Alpuhara's peak that bugle rung,

And it was echoed 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 unappalled, and burning for the fight,
The invaders march, of victory secure;
Skilful their force to sever or unite,

And trained alike to vanquish or endure.
Nor skilful less, cheap conquest to ensure,
Discord to breathe, and jealousy to sew,
To quell by boasting, and by bribes to lure;
While nought against them bring the unprae-
tised foe,

Save hearts for Freedom's cause, and hands for
Freedom's blow.

XLVIII.

Proudly they march-but O! they marched not
forth,

By one hot field to crown a brief campaign,
As when their eagles, sweeping through the north,
Destroyed 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," And oft the god of battles blest the righteous side. XLIX.

Nor unatoned, where Freedom's foes prevail, Remained 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,

LII.

Yet raise thy head, sad city! Though in chains,
Enthralled 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, honoured be her name,

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

That gave some martyr to the blessed 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 darkening where the mine was sprung, Now briefly lightened by the cannon's flare, Now arched with fire-sparks as the bomb was flung, And reddening 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 darkened was the sky,
And wide destruction stunned the listening ear,
Appalled 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.

A various host-from kindred realms they came,

Brethren in arms, but rivals in renownFor yon fair bands shall merry England claim,

And with their deeds of valour deck her crown.

Hers their bold port, 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.

Now on the scene Vineira 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.

Don Roderick turned him as the shout grew loud-But shall fond fable mix with hero's praise?

A varied scene the changeful vision showed,
For, where the ocean mingled with the cloud,
A gallant navy stemmed 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 land ward barges rowed,

And flashed the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear,
And the wild beach returned the seaman's jovial

cheer.

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

Around the warrior's erest, and o'er the warrior's
tomb?

LXII.

Or may I give adventurous fancy scope,
And stretch a bold hand to the awful veil