Iberia Won 39

Iberia Won 39

XXX.

 

“Five years have past--thou dost remember well,

’Twas when thou first didst braid thy raven hair,

My Isidor, as now doth Isabel--

Five wretched years--and both have grown so fair!

Since first this Meteor who the earth doth scare

With blood-red beams--this dire Napoléon--

O’er Spain began to cast his lurid glare,

Covet her lovely sky and radiant sun,

And try how much could first by treacherous fraud be won.

 

 

XXXI.

 

“Dire was the ruin by Corruption’s hand

Shed on our ancient monarchy. Her men

Were noble still and worthy of the land,

Whose blood hath poured in every mountain-glen

From Calpe to Asturia’s rudest den,

’Gainst warlike Moor contending. But her Kings

Unworthy most beneath dominion’s ken

To hold so proud a people--timorous things--

Crawled ’neath a favourite’s sway, or crouched ’neath churchmen’s

wings.

 

 

XXXII.

 

“Corruption fills the Court--the Grandé taints--

The Judge perverts to more pervert the law,

Gives Demon-forms of hate the guise of Saints,

And Freedom flings to Persecution’s maw.

The Holy Office Hell delighted saw!

Divine Religion! man’s best, purest gift,

Thou only gem that shines without a flaw!

Star, from whose ray withdrawn we chartless drift,

A Gorgon thou wast made, a Moloch spear didst lift!

 

 

XXXIII.

 

“And Man was told to love where forced to hate,

And saw his fairest fields partitioned forth

To Nobles--so miscalled--by robbery great,

Whose phantom title was ancestral worth,

Their own sole merit accident of birth!

Heart-bitterness and worming discontent

Made all the land--the loveliest upon earth--

In sullen, fierce indifference bide till rent

The Thunder-clouds, supine--and some on Vengeance bent.

 

 

XXXIV.

 

“And patience, Heaven! while I pronounce the name

Of him, the fellest monster of them all--

Godoy who sold Iberia first to shame,

And through her cold lips forced the cup of gall,

Parted to France the Indian dower whose thrall

Columbus won--even basely dared profane

His monarch’s bed; and shadowing thus our fall,

Napoléon gave a path to Lusitain

O’er our dishonoured soil--those footsteps conquered Spain!

 

 

XXXV.

 

“And secret treaties had the recreant drawn

With Hell’s diplomacy our soil to carve;

And Europe was to have seen ere Aries’ dawn

The traitor’s self the sovereign of Algarve.

Thus rulers traffic while the people starve!

Perchance Gaul’s tyrant mocked him with the lure--

A double traitor--base design to serve.

Howe’er be this, his legions we endure

Marched to the sister-land that erst expelled the Moor.

 

 

XXXVI.

 

“Trembled blue Tagus when his waters saw

A conqueror come unwounded to his shore;

His curling wave, receding, he doth draw

In violent scorn to where Almada o’er

The Serra lords Lisboa’s towers before.

Her soil that spurned the Invader quakes again,

And gapes athirst for foreign tyrants’ gore.

Indignant Tagus lashes it--in vain--

Sinks o’er his golden sands, and sighing wears the chain.

 

 

XXXVII.

 

“Where were thy men--where, Lusitain, were they?

Entranced, appalled--with none to lead or guide.

Thy coward Princes fled like hinds away--

Thy caitiff Nobles crost the Ocean-tide.

No sword in the Invader’s blood was dyed!

Thy Chiefs and Patriarchs basely kist the rod;

Thy sacred banner of Saint George the pride,

Torn from his castled height o’erspread the sod,

And Priests profane declared thy conquerors sent by God!

 

 

XXXVIII.

 

“Spain next a victim! Foulest treachery seized

Her fortress-castles--to the frontier drew

Her Princes whose domestic feuds it pleased

The Invader to foment, as Hell might do!

His legions marched--for patriots then were few--

To Manzanarés’ banks; our aged King

The Usurper made pronounce his last adieu,

And caged his Heir--a poor and mindless thing--

But Spain her talons ground, and imped her soaring wing!

 

 

XXXIX.

 

“Oh, many a murder marked that foreign sway,

And many a shriek appalling rent the air.”--

He ceased an instant--thus while he did say,

Their ears were smote by cries of deep despair.

Rushed Carlos to the door, but held him there

Salustian, Isidora, Isabel.

He shook with passion, till his mistress fair

With gentlest pressure strove his rage to quell;

Then snatched a ghittern--thus he struck the tuneful shell:--

 

 

The Tartar Town.

 

1.

 

’Tis foully done to wrong the Basque;

No nobler man than he.

A desert-child, a Tartar wild,

He once was more than free.

 

 

2.

 

He ne’er to Tyrants bowed the neck,

Nor stooped to slavish task.

The King of Spain, if he would reign,

Must doff before the Basque.

 

 

3.

 

His lordly Fuéros prove his worth,

Bequeathed from sire to son.

Hidalgos proud, the Vascon crowd

Are noble every one.

 

 

4.

 

No other land the heir-loom grand

Of Vascongada claims.

Each earthly shore must vail before

The nobler Vascon names.

 

 

5.

 

No blood of Christ-beslaughtering Jew,

No Moorish taint we own;

But God’s own gold--the Christians Old,

’Tis we be they alone!

 

 

6.

 

O’er stately Kings our triumph rings--

’Tis thus we spoke to them,

Low kneeling down, or ere the crown

Possest this sparkling gem:

 

 

7.

 

Our bonnets worn, in lordly scorn,

The Monarch kneeling bare:--

“We great as you, more powerful too,

“Our King we you declare.