Iberia Won 10

Iberia Won 10

XXXI.

 

And quakes the stern invading Tyrant now,

Whose legions to the frontier back are driven;

For even Pyrene’s rocky margins bow

Before the giant march, with fetters riven,

Of Freedom’s phalanx marshalled on by Heaven!

Rey, on thine arm an Empire’s fate depends.

To San Sebastian haply now is given

The fortress key their swelling strength that bends.

France jealous eyes thee! Rey his post full well defends.

 

 

XXXII.

 

From Guetaría see where vulture-eyed

That scowling band of Franks perforce retires,

And turns their chief in demon triumph joyed

To mark the scene where, Gaul, thy pride expires.

Sudden explode terrific blasting fires,

And swift the fortress-ruins blot the skies

With matrons, virgins, babes, and aged sires,

Rent by the train the ruffian, as he flies,

Hath left alight--to fierce Revenge a sacrifice.

 

 

XXXIII.

 

Shudder, thou worm that point’st thy petty sting;

A breath may quench both thee and all thy line!

Fly, passion, hate, ’neath Mercy’s sheltering wing--

Hath not the Lord declared: “Revenge is mine?”

Reptile, dost _Him_ defy? Not thus will shine

Thy courage when, at dissolution’s hour,

The more thou scornest now the more thou’lt whine,

And feel no weed that deems itself a flower

So mean as man who dares to brave the Almighty’s power!

 

 

XXXIV.

 

From Haya’s crest of rough and broken crag

A darkling thunder-storm came grandly down.

From peak to peak, while gathering rain-drops lag,

The fiery demon leaps, from chasm to crown--

Terrific dance!--then hides ’neath blackest frown,

Whose pall o’erspreads the sky; low growls at times,

Then volleying roars while floods the welkin drown.

Andaye took up the song of mountain-climes,

And Jaizquibél gave back the sound with thunder-chimes!

 

 

XXXV.

 

San Marcial echoes it with savage pride,

The Grand Monarque rebellows it with zeal.

Then, when the monsters huge had shook each side

With giant laughter, of which every peal

Is thunder that can make the despot feel,

And waked Pyrene o’er his widest span,

While peak to peak replied, and torrents reel

With that rejoicing music, as it ran,

That spake their savage strength in terror’s tones to man.

 

 

XXXVI.

 

Dark muffled thus they slept. Yet even in dreams,

Such dreams as mountain-spirits give to birth,

The thunderous memory lives. Low muttering seems

To sullen tell how baleful was that mirth,

Whose very faintest echo shook the earth,

Gigantic! Downward gathering comes the storm

O’er Haya’s flank and Oyarzuno’s girth

By crag and deep ravine, till lightning warm

With wind and rain it falls o’er Uruméa’s form.

 

 

XXXVII.

 

And ’mid the thickest of the storm behold

Where scud Cantabria’s daughters through the tide,

The death-rain from the rampart fronting bold,

And bear to Britain’s sons, Hesperia’s pride,

The tribute of support for arms allied.

Now brighter beams each eye, and heroes wear

Unwonted blushes warrior cheeks to hide,

And feel thrice-nerved their arms by Beauty rare,

Their spirits bounding high: on Valour smiles the fair!

 

 

XXXVIII.

 

Amongst these maids the beauteous Blanca stood,

Pride of the ocean-beat Biscayan coast;

A laughing damsel gay yet angel-good,

Light-haired, blue-eyed, in Spain no vulgar boast,

Where black-eyed maidens are a countless host.

With mirth so radiant was her spirit free,

That all she gladdened--melting roughest frost:

Like her none danced Bolera or Olé,

And none could featly touch the light guitar as she.

 

 

XXXIX.

 

Her auburn hair in clustering curls around

Her sunny face now shrouded, now revealed

Its beauties, waving with each fairy bound;

Her peachy cheek now glancing, now concealed.

Her eye the wound it gave next instant healed,

So bright yet soft, so keen yet melting tender.

A sweetness inexpressible made yield

All hearts: ripe lips, and teeth of pearly splendour,

Made Nature’s task in vain another charm to lend her.

 

 

XL.

 

No coif encircling bound her beauteous head,

No silken net her tresses rich confined,

To mar the lustre which her glances shed;

But ribands plain its wild luxuriance bind.

She wore no jewels: streamed upon the wind

A gauzy veil, with flowers of golden sheen

Embroidered, floating gracefully behind,

Her only ornament--yet form and mien

Proclaimed her thus attired ’mongst hundred maids the queen.

 

 

XLI.

 

Her xaquetilla, to the shape most lithe,

Was of cerulean velvet, room supplying

For her full bosom’s play, when free and blithe

She plied the oar, yet to her form close lying,

Which no compression needed, art defying.

Two billows heaved within, as on the tide

She mastered, with its foam in whiteness vying;

And from her ears to every turn of pride

Two tiniest silver bells with tinklings sweet replied.

 

 

XLII.

 

So fair the maid in infancy had been,

That San Sebastian chose her then to bear

A cherub’s wings amid the festal scene

Her warrior-patron’s day that honours there.

And with her foster-sister not less fair,

The noble Isidora, hand in hand,

Oft walked she thus in childhood--beauteous pair!

Though tender still their loves apart they stand,

For San Sebastian’s siege the approach of Blanca banned.

 

 

XLIII.

 

She was the leader of the virgin group,

The Delia of that race of shallops gay;

And vigorous-handed to the oar could stoop,

When gales tempestuous tost the stormy Bay.

For high the spirit of that lightsome fay,

And bold as Manuela’s self, the Maid

Of Zaragoza, she could guide the fray,

The French marauders menaced undismayed,

And oft her wild guitar thus prompted to the raid:--

 

 

The Spanish Song of Freedom.

 

 

1.

 

Let the brave, let the brave fill the battered

War-chalice, fair Freedom, to thee;

On the slave, on the slave be it shattered,