XIV.

“Such Spaniards were--in days long past away-- Who drove the Invader forth, nor asked for aid. I need not speak what Spaniards are to-day. Oh, let not Britons thus the Basque o’ershade. At least be drawn Bilbáo’s trusty blade!”-- Flushed many a cheek, “_Las armas!_” was the cry. With hasty-buckled swords the high-souled maid, And firelocks true, soon saw them gathering nigh, And ’neath the sacred oak flashed many a warlike eye:

The Gathering.

“These be my countrymen (she said); Spain, thy spirit is not dead! When the kite shall grasp the thunder, France shall bring thy spirit under; When upheaved is Roncesvalles, France shall hold Alphonso’s palace. When forgotten is Pavía, When unwrit her annals all, Then shall Spain consent to be a Province for the Gaul! Hoist the standard Of Hesperia; Ne’er hath pandered Celtiberia! Greatly dare, Till free as air; Firm as rock, Withstand the shock! Now when babes untimely perish, Like old Basques strew pure white roses; Freedom’s flame now, now ye cherish-- ’Tis no infant slave reposes! The pride of arms, And Freedom’s charms, Have spurred each soul For Glory’s goal; My countrymen, to-day ye make your sister proud. The Invader may come; Hark, hark to his drum, And the hoofs of his chargers clattering loud! See, see where the dust, Like a storm-gathered gust, Rolls over the plain, As he gallops amain; Now stand, brothers brave, and be true to your trust! When upheaved is Roncesvalles, When the kite shall grasp the thunder, France shall hold Alphonso’s palace, France shall bring thy spirit under! When dishonours Vascongada Fernan’s triumph at Granada, When forgotten is Pavía, When unwrit her annals all, Then shall Spain consent to be a Province for the Gaul!