Which with unweariable endurance still
Hath striven against its mightier enemies,
Roman or Carthaginian, Greek or Goth;
So often by superior arms oppress'd,
More often by superior arts beguiled;
Yet amid all its sufferings, all the waste
Of sword and fire remorselessly employ'd,
Unconquer'd and unconquerable still; ..
Son of that injured and illustrious stock,

Stand forward thou, draw forth the sword of Spain,
Restore them to their rights, too long withheld,
And place upon thy brow the Spanish crown.

When Roderick ceased, the princely Mountaineer
Gazed on the passionate orator awhile,
With eyes intently fix'd, and thoughtful brow;
Then turning to the altar, he let fall

The sackcloth robe, which late with folded arms
Against his heart was prest; and stretching forth
His hands toward the crucifix, exclaim'd,
My God and my Redeemer! where but here,
Before thy aweful presence, in this garb,
With penitential ashes thus bestrewn,
Could I so fitly answer to the call

Of Spain; and for her sake, and in thy name,
Accept the Crown of Thorns she proffers me! 1

And where but here, said Roderick in his heart, Could I so properly, with humbled knee

the lady's appearance, he used every means to detect her, but without avail; he even ordered all children to be examined who had been born in or around Toledo within three months, and full enquiry to be made into the circumstances of their births: To the astonishment of later historians, 35,000 of that age were found, and not one among them of suspicious extraction. The tale proceeds in the ordinary form of romance. The lady is accused of incontinence, and to be burnt, unless a champion defeats her accuser. Favila of course undertakes her defence, and of course is victorious. A second battle follows with the same success, and fresh combats would have followed, if a hermit had not brought the king to repentance. Grafeses in due time discovers the secret, and restores the child to his parents.

This fabulous chronicle seems to be the oldest written source of this story, but some such tradition had probably long been current. The ark was shown at Alcantara, in the convent of St. Benito, and a description of it, with reasons why its authenticity should be admitted, may be found in Francisco de Pisa's Description de Toledo, 1. iii. c. i.

1 Godfrey was actually crowned with thorns in Jerusalem. -a circumstance which has given rise to a curious question in heraldry, thus curiously stated and commented by Robert Barret, in that part of his long poem which relates to this Prince :

A Prince religious, if ever any,
Considering the age wherein he lived,

Vice-hater great, endued with virtues many,
True humilized, void of mundane pride;
For though he now created were great king,
Yet would he not as royal pomp requires,
Encrowned be with crownet glistering
Of gold and gems to mundains vain desires;
But with a pricking, pricking crown of thorn,
Bearing thereto a Christian reverence,

Sith Heaven's King, man's Redeemer, did not

scorn

To wear such crown within that city's fence,

And willing soul, confirm my forfeiture?..
The action follow'd on that secret thought:
He knelt, and took Pelayo's hand, and cried,
First of the Spaniards, let me with this kiss
Do homage to thee here, my Lord and King!..
With voice unchanged and steady countenance
He spake; but when Siverian follow'd him,
The old man trembled as his lips pronounced
The faltering vow; and rising he exclaim'd,
God grant thee, O my Prince, a better fate
Than thy poor kinsman's, who in happier days
Received thy homage here! Grief choak'd his speech,
And, bursting into tears, he sobb'd aloud.

Tears too adown Pelayo's manly cheek
Roll'd silently. Roderick alone appear'd
Unmoved and calm; for now the royal Goth
Had offer'd his accepted sacrifice,

And therefore in his soul he felt that peace
Which follows painful duty well perform'd,..
Perfect and heavenly peace,.. the peace of God.

ness of He ralds.

By reas'n of Godfrey's great humility, Refusing golden-crownets dignity, Some blundering in world-witted heraldry, The foolish. Not knowing how t' distinguish vertues trye, Do question make this Christian king to set In catalogue of gold-diademed kings; Regarding glitter of the external jet, And not true garnish of th' internal things; Th' internal virtues, soul's sweet ornaments, So pleasing to th' Eternal's sacred eyes, In angels chore consorting sweet concents Of heavenly harmony 'bove christal skies. But we, è contra, him not only deem

Annotacion.

A Christian king, but perfect Christian king,
A christal fanal, lamping light divine
To after-comer kings, world emp'rizing.
For he, religious prince, did not despise,
The Heaven-sent gift to be anointed king.
But disesteem'd the mundane pompous guise
Tickling the hearts of princes monarching.

Potentates regard this heaven-aspiring Prince, Not priding, as up proves his dignity; High throned kings aspect the starred fence Of this true map of true kings royalty; Not Nembrothizing in cloud-kissing towers, Not Semiramizing in prides palaces, Not Neronizing in all sanguine hours, Not Heliogabalizing in lusts lees; But Joshuadizing in his Christian camp, And Judithizing in his Salem's seat, And Davidizing in his Sion's stamp, And Solomonizing in all sacred heat.

As one whose soul impatiently endured
His country's thraldom, and in daily prayer
Imploring her deliverance, cried to Heaven,
How long, O Lord, how long! ... But
thoughts

Curbing his spirit, made him yet awhile
Sustain the weight of bondage. Him alone,
Of all the Gothic baronage, the Moors
Watch'd with regard of wary policy,..
Knowing his powerful name, his noble mind,
And how in him the old Iberian blood,
Of royal and remotest ancestry,
From undisputed source flow'd undefiled;
His mother's after-guilt attainting not
The claim legitimate he derived from her,
Her first-born in her time of innocence.
He too of Chindasuintho's regal line

Sole remnant now, drew after him the love
Of all true Goths, uniting in himself
Thus by this double right, the general heart
Of Spain. For this the renegado crew
Wretches in whom their conscious guilt and fear
Engender'd cruellest hatred, still advised
The extinction of Pelayo's house; but most
The apostate Prelate, in iniquity
Witiza's genuine brother as in blood,
Orpas, pursued his life. He never ceased
With busy zeal, true traitor, to infuse
His deadly rancour in the Moorish chief;
Their only danger, ever he observed,
Was from Pelayo; root his lineage out,
The Caliph's empire then would be secure,
And universal Spain, all hope of change
Being lost, receive the Prophet's conquering law.
Then did the Arch-villain urge the Moor at once
To cut off future peril, telling him
Death was a trusty keeper, and that none
E'er broke the prison of the grave.
Keen malice overshot its mark: the Moor,
Who from the plunder of their native land
Had bought the recreant crew that join'd his arms,
Or cheaplier with their own possessions bribed
Their sordid souls, saw through the flimsy show
Of policy wherewith they sought to cloak
Old enmity, and selfish aims: he scorn'd
To let their private purposes incline

But here

His counsels, and believing Spain subdued,
Smiled, in the pride of power and victory,
Disdainful at the thought of farther strife.
Howbeit he held Pelayo at his court,
And told him that until his countrymen
Submissively should lay their weapons down,
He from his children and paternal hearth
Apart must dwell; nor hope to see again
His native mountains and their vales beloved,
Till all the Asturian and Cantabrian hills
Had bow'd before the Caliph; Cordoba
Must be his nightly prison till that hour.
This night, by special favour from the Moor
Ask'd and vouchsafed, he pass'd without the walls,
Keeping his yearly vigil; on this night
Therefore the princely Spaniard could not fly,
Being thus in strongest bonds by honour held;
Nor would he by his own escape expose
To stricter bondage, or belike to death,
Count Pedro's son. The ancient enmity

With hope and fear and grief and shame disturb'd,
And sad remembrance, and the shadowy light
Of days before him, thronging as in dreams,
Whose quick succession fill'd and overpower'd
Awhile the unresisting faculty,

Could in the calm of troubled thoughts subdued
Seek in his heart for counsel, his first care
Was for the boy; how best they might evade
The Moor, and renegade's more watchful eye;
And leaving in some unsuspicious guise
The city, through what unfrequented track
Safeliest pursue with speed their dangerous way.
Consumed in cares like these, the fleeting hours
Went by. The lamps and tapers now grew pale,
And through the eastern window slanting fell
The roseate ray of morn. Within those walls
Returning day restored no cheerful sounds
Or joyous motions of awakening life;
But in the stream of light the speckled motes,
As if in mimickry of insect play,
Floated with mazy movement. Sloping down
Over the altar pass'd the pillar'd beam,
And rested on the sinful woman's grave
As if it enter'd there, a light from Heaven.
So be it! cried Pelayo, even so!

As in a momentary interval,

When thought expelling thought, had left his mind
Open and passive to the influxes

Of outward sense, his vacant eye was there,..
So be it, Heavenly Father, even so!
Thus may thy vivifying goodness shed
Forgiveness there; for let not thou the groans
Of dying penitence, nor my bitter prayers
Before thy mercy-seat, be heard in vain!
And thou, poor soul, who from the dolorous house
Of weeping and of pain, dost look to me
To shorten and assuage thy penal term,
Pardon me that these hours in other thoughts
And other duties than this garb, this night
Enjoin, should thus have pass'd! Our mother-

land

Exacted of my heart the sacrifice;

And many a vigil must thy son perform Henceforth in woods and mountain fastnesses,

And tented fields, outwatching for her sake

The noble Mountaineer, concluding then
With silent prayer the service of the night,
Went forth. Without the porch awaiting him
He saw Alphonso, pacing to and fro
With patient step and eye reverted oft.
He, springing forward when he heard the door
Move on its heavy hinges, ran to him,

And welcomed him with smiles of youthful love,
I have been watching yonder moon, quoth he,
How it grew pale and paler as the sun
Scatter'd the flying shades; but woe is me,
For on the towers of Cordoba the while
That baleful crescent glitter'd in the morn,
And with its insolent triumph seem'd to mock
The omen I had found... Last night I dreamt
That thou wert in the field in arms for Spain,
And I was at thy side: the infidels

Beset us round, but we with our good swords
Hew'd out a way. Methought I stabb'd a Moor
Who would have slain thee; but with that I woke
For joy, and wept to find it but a dream.

Thus as he spake a livelier glow o'erspread
His cheek, and starting tears again suffused
The brightening lustre of his eyes. The Prince
Regarded him a moment steadfastly,

As if in quick resolve; then looking round
On every side with keen and rapid glance,
Drew him within the church. Alphonso's heart
Throbb'd with a joyful boding as he mark'd
The calmness of Pelayo's countenance
Kindle with solemn thoughts, expressing now
High purposes of resolute hope. He gazed
All eagerly to hear what most he wish'd.
If, said the Prince, thy dream were verified,
And I indeed were in the field in arms
For Spain,.. wouldst thou be at Pelayo's side?..
If I should break these bonds, and fly to rear
Our country's banner on our native hills,
Wouldst thou, Alphonso, share my dangerous flight,
Dear boy,.. and wilt thou take thy lot with me
For death, or for deliverance?

Shall I swear?
Replied the impatient boy; and laying hand
Upon the altar, on his knee he bent,
Looking towards Pelayo with such joy
Of reverential love, as if a God
Were present to receive the eager vow.
Nay, quoth Pelayo: what hast thou to do
With oaths?.. Bright emanation as thou art,
It were a wrong to thy unsullied soul,
A sin to nature, were I to require
Promise or vow from thee! Enough for me
That thy heart answers to the stirring call.
Alphonso, follow thou in happy faith
Alway the indwelling voice that counsels thee;

And then, let fall the issue as it may,
Shall all thy paths be in the light of Heaven,
The peace of Heaven be with thee in all hours.

How then, exclaim'd the boy, shall I discharge
The burthen of this happiness,.. how ease
My overflowing soul!.. Oh, gracious God,
Shall I behold my mother's face again,..
My father's hall,.. my native hills and vales,
And hear the voices of their streams again,..
And free as I was born amid those scenes
Beloved, maintain my country's freedom there,..
Or, failing in the sacred enterprise,

Die as becomes a Spaniard?... Saying thus,
He lifted up his hands and eyes toward
The image of the Crucified, and cried,

O Thou who didst with thy most precious blood
Redeem us, Jesu! help us while we seek
Earthly redemption from this yoke of shame
And misbelief and death.

The noble boy

Then rose, and would have knelt again to clasp
Pelayo's knees, and kiss his hand in act
Of homage; but the Prince, preventing this,
Bent over him in fatherly embrace,

And breathed a fervent blessing on his head.

IX. FLORINDA.

THERE sate a woman like a supplicant,
Muffled and cloak'd, before Pelayo's gate,
Awaiting when he should return that morn.
She rose at his approach, and bow'd her head,
And, with a low and trembling utterance,
Besought him to vouchsafe her speech within
In privacy. And when they were alone,
And the doors closed, she knelt and claspt his knees,
Saying, a boon! a boon! This night, O Prince,
Hast thou kept vigil for thy mother's soul:
For her soul's sake, and for the soul of him
Whom once, in happier days, of all mankind
Thou heldest for thy chosen bosom friend,
Oh for the sake of his poor suffering soul,
Refuse me not!

How should I dare refuse,
Being thus adjured? he answer'd. Thy request
Is granted, woman, .. be it what it may
So it be lawful, and within the bounds
Of possible achievement: . . aught unfit
Thou wouldst not with these adjurations seek.
But who thou art, I marvel, that dost touch
Upon that string, and ask in Roderick's name!..
She bared her face, and, looking up, replied,
Florinda!.. Shrinking then, with both her hands
She hid herself, and bow'd her head abased

for Benedictine nuns, and when he called up his merry men, used to say, Up, sirs, and fight, for my nuns are up and praying; "Levantaos Señores á pelear, que mis monjas son levantadas á rezar.”—Pruebas de la Hist. de la Casa de Lara, p. 42.

Upon her knee,. . as one who, if the grave
Had oped beneath her, would have thrown herself,
Even like a lover, in the arms of Death.

Pelayo stood confused: he had not seen

Count Julian's daughter since in Roderick's court,
Glittering in beauty and in innocence,
A radiant vision, in her joy she moved;
More like a poet's dream, or form divine,
Heaven's prototype of perfect womanhood,
So lovely was the presence,.. than a thing
Of earth and perishable elements.

Now had he seen her in her winding-sheet,
Less painful would that spectacle have proved;
For peace is with the dead, and piety
Bringeth a patient hope to those who mourn
O'er the departed; but this alter'd face,
Bearing its deadly sorrow character'd,
Came to him like a ghost, which in the grave
Could find no rest. He, taking her cold hand,
Raised her, and would have spoken; but his
tongue

Fail'd in its office, and could only speak
In under tones compassionate her name.

A broken heart, in prayer and humble hope,
May wait for its deliverance. Even this
My most unhappy fate denies me here.

Griefs which are known too widely and too well
I need not now remember. I could bear
Privation of all Christian ordinances,

The woe which kills hath saved me too, and made
A temple of this ruin'd tabernacle,
Wherein redeeming God doth not disdain
To let his presence shine. And I could bear
To see the turban on my father's brow,..
Sorrow beyond all sorrows,. . shame of shames, . .
Yet to be borne, while I with tears of blood,
And throes of agony, in his behalf
Implore and wrestle with offended Heaven.
This I have borne resign'd: but other ills
And worse assail me now; the which to bear,
If to avoid be possible, would draw
Damnation down. Orpas, the perjured Priest,
The apostate Orpas, claims me for his bride.
Obdurate as he is, the wretch profanes
My sacred woe, and woos me to his bed,
The thing I am,.. the living death thou seest!

Miscreant! exclaim'd Pelayo. Might I meet That renegado, sword to scymitar, In open field, never did man approach The altar for the sacrifice in faith

More sure, than I should hew the villain down! But how should Julian favour his demand?.. Julian, who hath so passionately loved

His child, so dreadfully revenged her wrongs!

Count Julian, she replied, hath none but me,
And it hath, therefore, been his heart's desire
To see his ancient line by me preserved.
This was their covenant when in fatal hour
For Spain, and for themselves, in traitorous bond
Of union they combined. My father, stung
To madness, only thought of how to make
His vengeance sure; the Prelate, calm and cool,
When he renounced his outward faith in Christ,
Indulged at once his hatred of the King,
His inbred wickedness, and a haughty hope,
Versed as he was in treasons, to direct
The invaders by his secret policy,
And at their head, aided by Julian's power,
Reign as a Moor upon that throne to which
The priestly order else had barr'd his way.
The African hath conquer'd for himself;
But Orpas coveteth Count Julian's lands,
And claims to have the covenant perform'd.
Friendless, and worse than fatherless, I come
To thee for succour. Send me secretly,..

For well I know all faithful hearts must be
At thy devotion, . . with a trusty guide
To guard me on the way, that I may reach
Some Christian land, where Christian rites are free,
And there discharge a vow, alas! too long,
Too fatally delay'd. Aid me in this
For Roderick's sake, Pelayo! and thy name
Shall be remember'd in my latest prayer.

Be comforted! the Prince replied; but when
He spake of comfort, twice did he break off
The idle words, feeling that earth had none
For grief so irremediable as hers.
At length he took her hand, and pressing it,
And forcing through involuntary tears
A mournful smile affectionate, he said,
Say not that thou art friendless while I live!
Thou couldst not to a readier ear have told
Thy sorrows, nor have ask'd in fitter hour
What for my country's honour, for my rank,
My faith, and sacred knighthood, I am bound
In duty to perform; which not to do
Would show me undeserving of the names

Of Goth, Prince, Christian, even of Man. This day,
Lady, prepare to take thy lot with me,

And soon as evening closes meet me here.
Duties bring blessings with them, and I hold
Thy coming for a happy augury,

In this most aweful crisis of my fate.

X.

RODERICK AND FLORINDA.

WITH Sword and breast-plate, under rustic weeds
Conceal'd, at dusk Pelayo pass'd the gate,
Florinda following near, disguised alike.
Two peasants on their mules they seem'd, at eve
Returning from the town. Not distant far,
Alphonso by the appointed orange-grove,
With anxious eye and agitated heart,
Watch'd for the Prince's coming. Eagerly
At every foot-fall through the gloom he strain'd
His sight, nor did he recognize him when

The Chieftain thus accompanied drew nigh;
And when the expected signal called him on,
Doubting this female presence, half in fear
Obey'd the call. Pelayo too perceived
The boy was not alone; he not for that
Delay'd the summons, but lest need should be,
Laying hand upon his sword, toward him bent
In act soliciting speech, and low of voice
Enquired if friend or foe. Forgive me, cried
Alphonso, that I did not tell thee this,
Full as I was of happiness, before.
"Tis Hoya, servant of my father's house,
Unto whose dutiful care and love, when sent
To this vile bondage, I was given in charge.
How could I look upon my father's face
If I had in my joy deserted him,

Who was to me found faithful?.. Right! replied
The Prince; and viewing him with silent joy,
Blessed the Mother, in his heart he said,
Who gave thee birth! but sure of womankind
Most blessed she whose hand her happy stars

Easy oblivion; and the Prince himself,
Yielding to weary nature's gentle will,
Forgot his cares awhile. Florinda sate
Beholding Roderick with fix'd eyes intent,
Yet unregardant of the countenance
Whereon they dwelt; in other thoughts absorb'd,
Collecting fortitude for what she yearn'd,
Yet trembled to perform. Her steady look
Disturb'd the Goth, albeit he little ween'd
What agony awaited him that hour.

Her face, well nigh as changed as his, was now
Half hidden, and the lustre of her eye
Extinct; nor did her voice awaken in him
One startling recollection when she spake,
So altered were its tones.

Father, she said,

All thankful as I am to leave behind
The unhappy walls of Cordoba, not less
Of consolation doth my heart receive
At sight of one to whom I may disclose
The sins which trouble me, and at his feet

form

Of Hermesind 1, his daughter, to his soul

Came in her beauty.

Soon by devious tracks

They turn'd aside. The favouring moon arose,
To guide them on their flight through upland paths
Remote from frequentage, and dales retired,
Forest and mountain glen. Before their feet
The fire-flies, swarming in the woodland shade,
Sprung up like sparks, and twinkled round their
way;

The timorous blackbird, starting at their step,
Fled from the thicket with shrill note of fear;
And far below them in the peopled dell,
When all the soothing sounds of eve had ceased,
The distant watch-dog's voice at times was heard,
Answering the nearer wolf. All through the night
Among the hills they travell'd silently;

Till when the stars were setting, at what hour
The breath of Heaven is coldest, they beheld
Within a lonely grove the expected fire,
Where Roderick and his comrade anxiously
Look'd for the appointed meeting.
They from the burthen and the bit relieved
Their patient bearers, and around the fire
Partook of needful food and grateful rest.

Halting there,

Bright rose the flame replenish'd; it illumed The cork-tree's furrow'd rind, its rifts and swells And redder scars, .. and where its aged boughs O'erbower'd the travellers, cast upon the leaves A floating, grey, unrealizing gleam. Alphonso, light of heart, upon the heath Lay carelessly dispread, in happy dreams Of home; his faithful Hoya slept beside. Years and fatigue to old Siverian brought

1 Mariana derives the name of Hermesinda from the reverence in which Hermenegild was held in Spain, a prince who has been sainted for having renounced the Homooisian creed, and raised a civil war against his father in favour of the Homoousian one. It is not a little curious when the fate of D. Carlos is remembered, that his name should have been inserted in the Kalendar, at the solicitation of Philip II.!

The burthen of my spirit. In his name
Hear me, and pour into a wounded soul
The balm of pious counsel... Saying thus,
She drew toward the minister ordain'd,

And kneeling by him, Father, dost thou know
The wretch who kneels beside thee? she enquired.
He answered, Surely we are each to each
Equally unknown.

Then said she, Here thou seest
One who is known too fatally for all,. .
The daughter of Count Julian. . . . Well it was
For Roderick that no eye beheld him now;
From head to foot a sharper pang than death
Thrill'd him; his heart, as at a mortal stroke,
Ceased from its functions: his breath fail'd, and when
The power of life recovering set its springs
Again in action, cold and clammy sweat
Starting at every pore suffused his frame.
Their presence help'd him to subdue himself;
For else, had none been nigh, he would have fallen
Before Florinda prostrate on the earth,
And in that mutual agony belike

Both souls had taken flight. She mark'd him not;
For having told her name, she bow'd her head,
Breathing a short and silent prayer to Heaven,
While, as a penitent, she wrought herself
To open to his eye her hidden wounds.

Father, at length she said, all tongues amid This general ruin shed their bitterness On Roderick, load his memory with reproach, And with their curses persecute his soul.... Why shouldst thou tell me this? exclaim'd the Goth, From his cold forehead wiping as he spake The death-like moisture:.. Why of Roderick's guilt Tell me? Or thinkest thou I know it not?

From the same source Mariana derives the names Hermenisinda, Armengol, Ermengaud, Hermegildez, and Hermildez. But here, as Brito has done with Pelayo, he seems to forget that the name was current before it was borne by the Saint, and the derivations from it as numerous. Its root may be found in Herman, whose German name will prevail over the latinized Arminius.