Iberia Won 13

Iberia Won 13

Partidas_ was the generic name of the partisan bands, who

maintained the indomitable Guerrilla warfare against the French,

and of whom there were not less than 50,000 at one period in

Spain. A favourite weapon of these legitimate successors of the

Almugavars, or ancient mountaineer troops of Spain, was the

_trabuco_, or blunderbuss. The two most famous Partida chiefs were

those whose names are recorded in the text. The Mina alluded to is

Espoz y Mina, the Scanderbeg of Spain, uncle to the Student of the

same name.

 

 

XXX. “But Nations ne’er yet died when Tyrants pleased!”

 

The strongest proof of the inherent vitality of a Nation is that

Spain survived the villanies of Godoy.

 

 

XXXIII. “Reptile, dost _Him_ defy?”

 

Wer empfinden

Und sich unterwinden

Zu sagen: ich glaub’ ihn nicht?

Der Allumfasser!

Der Allerhalter!

Goethe, _Faust_.

 

“Who can feel, and dare to say: ‘I believe in Him not?’ the

All-encompasser, the All-sustainer!”

 

 

 

 

IBERIA WON.

 

Canto II.

 

 

I.

 

How terrible the march of blood-stained War!

Though rank on rank his fiery breath lay low,

Still patriots crowd, and many a needless scar

And daring profitless derides the foe.

Oh, human passion! Is’t but human wo

Thou deign’st for food, for drink the crimson tide?

Incarnadined Ambition! Here bestow

A glance upon thy fruits, and learn to chide

Thy self-idolatry, thy more than fiendish pride!

 

 

II.

 

Dauntless defenders! On Numantia’s wall,

Or ’mid self-fired Sagunthus’ leaguered towers,

Defying Hannibal whose eyes appal

The flames of sacrifice; or ’gainst the powers

Of Tarik fierce arrayed in darker hours--

From rough Asturian mountains hurling down

Huge rocks whose maw the Moorish host devours,

While great Pelayo’s form with deadly frown

Up Covadonga’s vale comes trampling fell Mahoun!

 

 

III.

 

Or ’mid the echoing heights that girdle round

Fair Roncesvalles taming haughty France,

When Roland’s horn with its tremendous sound

No response woke from aidful troop’s advance,

And Paladin and Peer Bernardo’s lance

Beneath Pyrene slaughtered; or more late

At mightiest Zaragoza, where askance

Flew Gaul’s derided death-bolts winged by hate,--

Unyielding still as here by San Sebastian’s gate.

 

 

IV.

 

Not many moons before, Gaul’s soldiery

Through fair Cantabria’s coast licentious strayed,

Brought rapine to the homesteads of the free,

And deathless grief to many a beauteous maid;

And wo unutterable cast its shade

Along Biscaya’s lovely sunlit shore.

Weak natures drooped their foreheads, sore afraid,

But Blanca proudly lifted hers the more,

And death to him whose hand might ruffian-dare she swore!

 

 

V.

 

Not long the chance removed, not long the arm

Of withering conquest left the test untried;

To sabred villains an unrifled charm

Were like a stigma to inhuman pride.

A gentle sister clung to Blanca’s side

One sweet May eve when fills the clustering vine;

And ’neath the trellised porch embowering wide,

As forth their footsteps strayed from Home’s sweet shrine,

Two bearded French hussars forbade them pass its line.

 

 

VI.

 

“What! buxom damsels--not discerned before.

“Where hid my Venus?” Blanca cried: “Forbear!”--

“How now? By Heaven, this coyness fires me more;

“No dame of Normandy more beauteous fair,

“No Bretonne maiden binds more golden hair.”--

“Black,” quoth his comrade “is of Beauty’s flower

“For me the hue--so, lovingly we’ll share.

“Come, be a soldier’s bride--for half an hour.”

He grinned--both troopers laughed--the maids were in their power!

 

 

VII.

 

This Blanca saw, nor seemed she to resist,

E’en smote not when the dastard seized her waist,

Resented nought when one her sister kist,

Nor frowned when his compeer herself embraced.

Thus lulled each fear, each dark suspicion chased,

They called for wine, the lawless soldier’s bane.

O’erjoyed was Blanca, yet with eager haste

As poured she cup on cup which swift they drain,

Betrayed no joy, though fast it mounted to each brain.

 

 

VIII.

 

Fired with the generous vintage, which gave all

The ruffian forth, as gives it forth the balm

Of nobler natures, the hussars appal

The maidens’ breasts with many a sinking qualm.

Hell gleams from forth their eyes; and burns each palm;

Distended wide their satyr nostrils scare!

Ye maids of England, blissful in your calm

Security, oh, long from you be far

Invasion’s horrors dire, the fiendishness of War!

 

 

IX.

 

One villain seized the gentle Ana’s arm,

And dragged her to the bowering vineyard near;

With cruel irony, “lest aught of harm,”

He said, “should chance to reach your sister dear,

“I’ll take my carbine with me,”--for with fear

He marked the flashing wrath in Blanca’s eye;

Then o’er his shoulder with this parting jeer

He sought to rouse his comrade: “Jules, good b’ye;

“The dove you think you’ve caught may like a falcon fly.”

 

 

X.

 

But Jules still cried: “More wine!” And Blanca poured

Like Hebe for this flagrant Hercules,

While ever and anon she eyed his sword;

But--happier fate--while drains he to the lees

Another cup, he drops his head and frees

His carbine with the movement. Swift as thought,

She lifts the weapon--to the vineyard flees;--

The deadly tube she to a level brought,

When Ana’s struggling arm a friendly vine-branch caught.

 

 

XI.

 

Unskilled her aim--but stainless purity

Gave loftiest courage, nerving eye and hand.

She breathed a prayer--an instant gazed on high--

“Oh, Virgin Queen, _mi madre_, guardian stand!”

Next instant she discharged the flaming brand.

Within the throb of Ana’s beauteous breast

Flew the fleet bullet. Heaven its progress banned;

And through the ravisher’s hot heart it prest,

His fell design extinct in death’s eternal rest!

 

 

XII.