The dreadful tale! I told him of my vow;
And from sincere and scrupulous piety,
But more, I fear me, in that desperate mood

Of obstinate will perverse, the which, with pride

And shame and self-reproach, doth sometimes make

A woman's tongue, her own worst enemy,

Run counter to her dearest heart's desire,..

In that unhappy mood did I resist

Old Barret tells the story as Ancient Pistol would have done :

"In Ulit's time there regalized in Spain
One Roderick, king from the Gothians race't;
Into whose secret heart with silent strain
Instretcht the 'sturber of hart pudike chast,
Him enamouravizing of a piece,

A piece by Nature quaintly symmetrized,
Enfayred with beauty as Helen fair of Greece:
Count Julian's daughter of bed-wedlockized,
Ycleaped Caba; who in court surshined
The rest, as Hesperus the dimmed stars.

This piece the king in his Love's-closet shrined,
Survicting her by wile, gold, gems, or forced jars."

It is thus related in the fabulous Chronicle:-"Despues que el Rey ovo descubierto su coraçon à la Cava, no era dia que la no requiriesse una vez ó dos, y ella se defendia con buena razon empero al cabo como el Rey no pensava cosa como en esto, un dia en la siesta embio con un donzel suyo por la Cava; y ella vino á su mandado; y como en essa bora no avia en toda su camara otro ninguno sino ellos todos tres, el cumplio con ella todo lo que puso. Empero tanto sabed que si ella quisiera dar bozes que bien fuera oyda de la reyna, mas callosse con lo que el Rey quiso fazer." - P. 1. c. 172.

In this fabulous Chronicle Roderick's fall is represented as the work of his stars:-"Y aunque á las vezes pensava el gran yerro en que tocava, y en la maldad que su coraçon avia cometido, tanto era el ardor que tenia que lo olvidava todo, y esto acarreava la malandança que le avia de venir, y la destruycion de España que avia de aver comienço para se hazer; y quiero vos dezir que su constelacion no podia escusar que esto no passasse assi; y ya Dios lo avia dexado en su discrecion; y el por cosa que fuesse no se podia arredrar que no topasse en ello."- P. 1. c. 164.

"Certes," says the fabulous Chronicler," he was a Lord of greater bounty than ever had been seen before his time. —- He used to say, that if all the world were his, he would rather lose it than one friend; for the world was a thing which, if it were lost, might be recovered; but a friend, once lost, could never be recovered for all the treasure in the world. And because he was thus bountiful, all those of Spain were likewise and they had the fame of being the most liberal men in the world, especially those of the lineage of the Goths. Never a thing was asked at his hands, whether great or small, to which he could say no; and never king nor other great lord asked aid of him that he denied, but gave them of his treasures and of his people as much as they needed. And doubt not, but that if fortune had not ordered that in his time the lineage of the Goths should be cut off, and Spain destroyed, there was no king or emperor whom he would not have brought into subjection; and if the whole world ought to be placed in the power of one man (speaking of worldly things), there never was, nor will be, a man deserving to possess it, save he alone. But as envy is the beginning of all evil, and saw how great was the goodness of this king, she never rested till she had brought about that things should be utterly reversed, even till she had destroyed him. Oh what great damage to the world will it be when God shall consent that so much bounty, and courage, and frankness, and loyalty should be destroyed for ever! All nations ought to clad themselves in wretched weeds one day in the week to mourn for the flower of the world, and especially ought the people of Spain to make such mourning."- Chronica del Rey Don Ro drigo, p. 1. c. 55.

And again, when the last battle is approaching, he praises

All his most earnest prayers to let the power
Of holy Church, never more rightfully
Invoked, he said, than now in our behalf,
Release us from our fatal bonds. He urged

With kindling warmth his suit, like one whose life
Hung on the issue; I dissembled not

My cruel self-reproaches, nor my grief,

Yet desperately maintain'd the rash resolve;
Till in the passionate argument he grew
Incensed, inflamed, and madden'd or possess'd,..
For Hell too surely at that hour prevail'd,
And with such subtile toils enveloped him,
That even in the extremity of guilt
No guilt he purported, but rather meant
An amplest recompence of life-long love
For transitory wrong, which fate perverse,
Thus madly he deceived himself, compell'd,
And therefore stern necessity excused.
Here then, O Father, at thy feet I own
Myself the guiltier; for full well I knew
These were his thoughts, but vengeance master'd me,
And in my agony I cursed the man
Whom I loved best.

Dost thou recall that curse?
Cried Roderick, in a deep and inward voice,
Still with his head depress'd, and covering still
His countenance. Recall it she exclaim'd;
Father, I come to thee because I gave

...

The reins to wrath too long,.. because I wrought
His ruin, death, and infamy.. O God,
Forgive the wicked vengeance thus indulged,
As I forgive the King!... But teach me now
What reparation more than tears and prayers
May now be made; . . how shall I vindicate
His injured name, and take upon myself . . . . .
Daughter of Julian, firmly he replied,

Speak not of that, I charge thee! On his fame
The Ethiop dye, fixed ineffaceably,

For ever will abide; so it must be,

So should be: 'tis his rightful punishment;
And if to the full measure of his sin

His hand, and pointed where Siverian lay
Stretch'd on the heath. To that old man, said he,
And to the mother of the unhappy Goth,
Tell, if it please thee,.. not what thou hast pour'd
Into my secret ear, but that the child

For whom they mourn with anguish unallay'd,
Sinn'd not from vicious will, or heart corrupt,
But fell by fatal circumstance betray'd.
And if in charity to them thou sayest
Something to palliate, something to excuse
An act of sudden frenzy when the Fiend
O'ercame him, thou wilt do for Roderick
All he could ask thee, all that can be done
On earth, and all his spirit could endure.

Venturing towards her an imploring look,
Wilt thou join with me for his soul in prayer?
He said, and trembled as he spake. That voice

Of sympathy was like Heaven's influence,
Wounding at once and comforting the soul.
O Father, Christ requite thee! she exclaim'd;
Thou hast set free the springs which withering griefs
Have closed too long. Forgive me, for I thought
Thou wert a rigid and unpitying judge;

One whose stern virtue, feeling in itself
No flaw of frailty, heard impatiently

Of weakness and of guilt. I wrong'd thee, Father!..
With that she took his hand, and kissing it,
Bathed it with tears. Then in a firmer speech,
For Roderick, for Count Julian and myself,
Three wretchedest of all the human race,
Who have destroyed each other and ourselves,
Mutually wrong'd and wronging, let us pray!

the king: "Y el Rey era el mas esforçado hombre de coraçon que nunca se oyo dezir: y el mas franco de todo lo que podia aver; y preciava mas cobrar amigos que no quanto tesoro pudiesse estar en su reyno, hasta el dia que creyo el consejo del traydor del conde Don Julian; y á maravilla era buen cavallero que al tiempo que el no era rey, no se hallava cavallero que á la su bondad se ygualasse, y tanto sabed que sino por estas malandanças que le vinieron, nunca cavallero al mundo de tales condiciones fue; que nunca á el vino chico ni grande que del se partiesse despagado á culpa suya."Pl. 1. c. 213.

The manner in which Florinda calls upon her father to revenge her is curiously expressed by Lope de Vega:

"Al escrivirle tiemblan pluma y mano, Llega el agravio, la piedad retira, Pues quanto escrive la vengança, tanto Quiere borrar de la verguença el llanto.

"No son menos las letras que soldados, Los ringlones yleras y esquadrones, Que al son de los suspiros van formados Haciendo las distancias las diciones:

Los mayores caracteres, armados
Navios, tiendas, maquinas, pendones;
Los puntos, los incisos, los acentos
Capitanes, Alferez y Sargentos.

"Breve processo escrive, aunque el sucesso
Significar quexosa determina,
Pero en tan breve causa, en tal processo
La perdicion de España se fulmina."

Jerusalen Conquistada, 1. 6. f. 138.

I remember but one of the old poets who has spoken with compassion of Florinda: It is the Portugueze Bras Garcia Mascarenhas, a writer who, with many odd things in his poem, has some fine ones.

"Refresca em Covilham a gente aflita,
Nam se sabe que nome entam a honrava;
Muyto deposis foy Cava Julia dita,

Por nascer nella a desditada Cava.

Nam a deslustra, antes a acredita

Filha que a honra mais que hum Rey presava;
Hespanha culpe a força sem desculpa,
Nam culpe a bella, que nam teve culpa."

Viriato Tragico, Canto ii. St. 118.

XI.

COUNT PEDRO'S CASTLE.

TWELVE weary days with unremitting speed,
Shunning frequented tracks, the travellers

Pursued their way; the mountain path they chose,
The forest or the lonely heath wide-spread,
Where cistus shrubs sole-seen exhaled at noon
Their fine balsamic odour all around;
Strew'd with their blossoms, frail as beautiful,
The thirsty soil at eve; and when the sun
Relumed the gladden'd earth, opening anew
Their stores exuberant, prodigal as frail,
Whiten'd again the wilderness. They left
The dark Sierra's skirts behind, and cross'd
The wilds where Ana in her native hills
Collects her sister springs, and hurries on
Her course melodious amid loveliest glens,
With forest and with fruitage overbower'd.
These scenes profusely blest by Heaven they left,
Where o'er the hazel and the quince the vine
Wide-mantling spreads; and clinging round the cork
And ilex, hangs amid their dusky leaves
Garlands of brightest hue, with reddening fruit
Pendant, or clusters cool of glassy green.
So holding on o'er mountain and o'er vale,
Tagus they cross'd where midland on his way
The King of Rivers rolls his stately stream;
And rude Alverches wide and stony bed,
And Duero distant far, and many a stream
And many a field obscure, in future war
For bloody theatre of famous deeds
Foredoom'd; and deserts where in years to come
Shall populous towns arise, and crested towers
And stately temples rear their heads on high.

Cautious with course circuitous they shunn'd The embattled city, which in eldest time Thrice-greatest Hermes built, so fables say, Now subjugate, but fated to behold

Ere long the heroic Prince (who passing now
Unknown and silently the dangerous track,
Turns thither his regardant eye) come down
Victorious from the heights, and bear abroad
Her banner'd Lion, symbol to the Moor

Of rout and death through many an age of blood.
Lo, there the Asturian hills! Far in the west,
Huge Rabanal and Foncebadon huge,
Pre-eminent, their giant bulk display,
Darkening with earliest shade the distant vales
Of Leon, and with evening premature.
Far in Cantabria eastward, the long line
Extends beyond the reach of eagle's eye,
When buoyant in mid-heaven the bird of Jove
Soars at his loftiest pitch. In the north, before
The travellers the Erbasian mountains rise,
Bounding the land beloved, their native land.

How then, Alphonso, did thy eager soul Chide the slow hours and painful way, which seem'd Lengthening to grow before their lagging pace! Youth of heroic thought and high desire, 'Tis not the spur of lofty enterprize

That with unequal throbbing hurries now

The unquiet heart, now makes it sink dismay'd;
'Tis not impatient joy which thus disturbs
In that young breast the healthful spring of life;
Joy and ambition have forsaken him,

His soul is sick with hope. So near his home,
So near his mother's arms;.. alas! perchance

The long'd-for meeting may be yet far off

As earth from heaven. Sorrow in these long months
Of separation may have laid her low;

Or what if at his flight the bloody Moor
Hath sent his ministers of slaughter forth,
And he himself should thus have brought the sword
Upon his father's head?.. Sure Hoya too
The same dark presage feels, the fearful boy
Said in himself; or wherefore is his brow
Thus overcast with heaviness, and why
Looks he thus anxiously in silence round?

Just then that faithful servant raised his hand,
And turning to Alphonso with a smile,
He pointed where Count Pedro's towers far off
Peer'd in the dell below; faint was the smile,
And while it sate upon his lips, his eye
Retain'd its troubled speculation still.
For long had he look'd wistfully in vain,
Seeking where far or near he might espy

From whom to learn if time or chance had wrought
Change in his master's house: but on the hills
Nor goat-herd could he see, nor traveller,
Nor huntsman early at his sports afield,
Nor angler following up the mountain glen
His lonely pastime; neither could he hear
Carol, or pipe, or shout of shepherd's boy,
Nor woodman's axe, for not a human sound
Disturb'd the silence of the solitude.

Is it the spoiler's work? At yonder door
Behold the favourite kidling bleats unheard;
The next stands open, and the sparrows there
Boldly pass in and out. Thither he turn'd
To seek what indications were within;
The chesnut-bread was on the shelf, the churn,
As if in haste forsaken, full and fresh;
The recent fire had moulder'd on the hearth;
And broken cobwebs mark'd the whiter space
Where from the wall the buckler and the sword
Had late been taken down. Wonder at first
Had mitigated fear, but Hoya now

Return'd to tell the symbols of good hope,
And they prick'd forward joyfully. Ere long
Perceptible above the ceaseless sound
Of yonder stream, a voice of multitudes,
As if in loud acclaim, was heard far off;
And nearer as they drew, distincter shouts
Came from the dell, and at Count Pedro's gate
The human swarm were seen,.. a motley group,
Maids, mothers, helpless infancy, weak age,
And wondering children and tumultuous boys,
Hot youth and resolute manhood gather'd there,
In uproar all. Anon the moving mass
Falls in half circle back, a general cry
Bursts forth, exultant arms are lifted up,
And caps are thrown aloft, as through the gate
Count Pedro's banner came. Alphonso shriek'd
For joy, and smote his steed and gallop'd on.

Fronting the gate the standard-bearer holds
His precious charge. Behind the men divide
In order'd files; green boyhood presses there,
And waning eld, pleading a youthful soul,
Intreats admission. All is ardour here,
Hope and brave purposes and minds resolved.
Nor where the weaker sex is left apart

Doth aught of fear find utterance, though perchance.
Some paler cheeks might there be seen, some eyes
Big with sad bodings, and some natural tears.
Count Pedro's war-horse in the vacant space
Strikes with impatient hoof the trodden turf,
And gazing round upon the martial show,
Proud of his stately trappings, flings his head,
And snorts and champs the bit, and neighing shrill
Wakes the near echo with his voice of joy.
The page beside him holds his master's spear
And shield and helmet. In the castle-gate
Count Pedro stands, his countenance resolved
But mournful, for Favinia on his arm
Hung, passionate with her fears, and held him back.
Go not, she cried, with this deluded crew!
She hath not, Pedro, with her frantic words
Bereft thy faculty,.. she is crazed with grief,
And her delirium hath infected these:

But, Pedro, thou art calm; thou dost not share
The madness of the crowd; thy sober mind
Surveys the danger in its whole extent,
And sees the certain ruin,.. for thou know'st
I know thou hast no hope. Unhappy man,
Why then for this most desperate enterprize
Wilt thou devote thy son, thine only child?
Not for myself I plead, nor even for thee;
Thou art a soldier, and thou canst not fear
The face of death; and I should welcome it
As the best visitant whom Heaven could send.
Not for our lives I speak then,.. were they worth
The thought of preservation;.. Nature soon
Must call for them; the sword that should cut short
Sorrow's slow work were merciful to us.
But spare Alphonso! there is time and hope
In store for him. O thou who gavest him life,
Seal not his death, his death and mine at once!

XII.

THE VOW.

ALWAYS I knew thee for a generous foe,
Pelayo said the Count; and in our time
Of enmity, thou too, I know, didst feel
The feud between us was but of the house,
Not of the heart. Brethren in arms henceforth
We stand or fall together: nor will I
Look to the event with one misgiving thought,..
That were to prove myself unworthy now
Of Heaven's benignant providence, this hour,
Scarcely by less than miracle, vouchsafed.
I will believe that we have days in store
Of hope, now risen again as from the dead,..
Of vengeance,.. of portentous victory,..
Yea, maugre all unlikelihoods,.. of peace.
Let us then here indissolubly knit

Our ancient houses, that those happy days,
When they arrive, may find us more than friends,
And bound by closer than fraternal ties.
Thou hast a daughter, Prince, to whom my heart
Yearns now, as if in winning infancy

Her smiles had been its daily food of love.

I need not tell thee what Alphonso is,..
Thou know'st the boy!

Already had that hope,
Replied Pelayo, risen within my soul.
O Thou, who in thy mercy from the house
Of Moorish bondage hast deliver'd us,
Fulfil the pious purposes for which

Here, in thy presence, thus we pledge our hands!

Strange hour to plight espousals! yielding half
To superstitious thoughts, Favinia cried,
And these strange witnesses! . . The times are strange,
With thoughtful speech composed her Lord replies,
And what thou seest accords with them. This day
Is wonderful; nor could auspicious Heaven
With fairer or with fitter omen gild

Our enterprize, when strong in heart and hope
We take the field, preparing thus for works
Unwillingly

Even as he spake, the astonish'd troop set up A shout of joy which rung through all the hills. Alphonso heeds not how they break their ranks And gather round to greet him; from his horse Precipitate and panting off he springs. Pedro grew pale, and trembled at his sight; Favinia claspt her hands, and looking up To Heaven as she embraced the boy, exclaim'd, Lord God, forgive me for my sinful fears; Unworthy that I am,.. my son, my son!

I yielded to my people's general voice,
Thinking that she who with her powerful words
To this excess had roused and kindled them,
Spake from the spirit of her griefs alone,
Not with prophetic impulse. Be that sin
Forgiven me! and the calm and quiet faith
Which, in the place of incredulity,
Hath fill'd me, now that seeing I believe,
Doth give of happy end to righteous cause
A presage, not presumptuous, but assured.

Then Pedro told Pelayo how from vale To vale the exalted Adosinda went, Exciting sire and son, in holy war Conquering or dying, to secure their place In Paradise and how reluctantly, And mourning for his child by his own act Thus doom'd to death, he bade with heavy heart His banner be brought forth. Devoid alike Of purpose and of hope himself, he meant To march toward the western Mountaineers,

Where Odoar by his counsel might direct

To shine amid the pageantry of war,

To Cangas, there, Pelayo, to secure,
With timely speed, I trust in God, thy house.

Then looking to his men, he cried, Bring forth The armour which in Wamba's wars1 I wore... Alphonso's heart leapt at the auspicious words. Count Pedro mark'd the rising glow of joy,.. Doubly to thee, Alphonso, he pursued, This day above all other days is blest, From whence as from a birth-day thou wilt date Thy life in arms!

Rejoicing in their task,

The servants of the house with emulous love
Dispute the charge. One brings the cuirass, one
The buckler; this exultingly displays
The sword, his comrade lifts the helm on high:
The greaves, the gauntlets they divide; a spur
Seems now to dignify the officious hand
Which for such service bears it to his Lord.
Greek artists in the imperial city forged
That splendid armour, perfect in their craft;
With curious skill they wrought it, framed alike

In the valuable history of this king by a contemporary writer, the following character of the French is given: -"Hujus igitur gloriosis temporibus, Galliarum terra altrix perfidiæ infami denotatur elogio, quæ utique inestimabili infidelitatis febre vexata, genita a se infidelium depasceret membra. Quid enim non in illa crudele vel lubricum? ubi conjuratorum conciliabulum, perfidiæ signum, obscœnitas operum, fraus negotiorum, venale judicium, et quod pejus his omnibus est, contra ipsum Salvatorem nostrum et Dominum, Judæorum blasphemantium prostibulum habebatur. Hæc enim terra suo, ut ita dixerim, partu, perditionis suæ sibimet præparavit excidium, et ex ventris sui generatione viperea eversionis suæ nutrivit decipulam. Etenim dum multo jam tempore his febrium diversitatibus ageretur, subito in ea unius nefandi capitis prolapsione turba infidelitatis adsurgit, et conscensio perfidiæ per unum ad plurimos transit." -S. Julian, Hist. Wambæ, § 5. España Sagrada, vi. 544.

2 The Partidas have some curious matter upon this subject. "Cleanliness makes things appear well to those who behold them, even as propriety makes them seemly, each in its way. And therefore the ancients held it good that knights should be made cleanly. For even as they ought to have cleanliness within them in their manners and customs, so ought they to have it without in their garments, and in the arms which they wear. For albeit their business is hard and cruel, being to strike and to slay; yet notwithstanding they may not so far forego their natural inclinations, as not to be pleased with fair and goodly things, especially when they wear them. For on one part they give joy and delight, and on the other make them fearlessly perform feats of arms, because they are aware that by them they are known, and that because of them men take more heed to what they do. Therefore, for this reason, cleanliness and propriety do not diminish the hardihood and cruelty which they ought to have. Moreover, as is aforesaid, that which appears without is the signification of what they have in their inclinations within. And therefore the ancients ordained that the squire, who is of noble lineage, should keep vigil the day before he receives knighthood. And after midday the squires shall bathe him, and wash his head with their hands, and lay him in the goodliest bed that may be. And there the knights shall draw on his hose, and clothe him with the best garments that can be had. And when the cleansing of the body has been performed, they shall do as much to the soul, taking him to the church, where he is to labour in watching and beseeching mercy of God, that he will forgive

Alphonso from his nurse's lap had stretch'd
His infant hands toward it eagerly,
Where gleaming to the central fire it hung
High in the hall; and many a time had wish'd
With boyish ardour, that the day were come
When Pedro to his prayers would grant the boon,
His dearest heart's desire. Count Pedro then
Would smile, and in his heart rejoice to see
The noble instinct manifest itself.
Then too Favinia with maternal pride
Would turn her eyes exulting to her Lord,
And in that silent language bid him mark
His spirit in his boy; all danger then
Was distant, and if secret forethought faint
Of manhood's perils, and the chance of war,
Hateful to mothers, pass'd across her mind,
The ill remote gave to the present hour
A heighten'd feeling of secure delight.

No season this for old solemnities, For wassailry and sport;.. the bath, the bed, The vigil,.. all preparatory rites

him his sins, and guide him so that he may demean himself well in that order which he is about to receive; to the end that he may defend his law, and do all other things according as it behoveth him, and that he would be his defender and keeper in all dangers and in all difficulties. And he ought to bear in mind how God is powerful above all things, and can show his power in them when he listeth, and especially in affairs of arms. For in his hand are life and death, to give and to take away, and to make the weak strong, and the strong weak. And when he is making this prayer, he must be with his knees bent, and all the rest of the time on foot, as long as he can bear it. For the vigil of knights was not ordained to be a sport, nor for any thing else, except that they, and those who go there, should pray to God to protect them, and direct them in the right way, and support them, as men who are 1 entering upon the way of death."- Part. ii. Tit. 21. Ley 13.

"When the vigil is over, as soon as it is day, he ought first to hear mass, and pray God to direct all his feats to his service. And afterwards he who is to knight him shall come and ask him, if he would receive the order of knighthood; and if he answereth yea, then shall it be asked him, if he will maintain it as it ought to be maintained; and when he shall have promised to do this, that knight shall fasten on his spurs, or order some other knight to fasten them on, according to what manner of man he may be, and the rank which he holdeth. And this they do to signify, that as a knight putteth spurs on the right and on the left, to make his horse gallop straight forward, even so he ought to let his actions be straightforward, swerving on neither side. And then shall his sword be girt on over his brial. Formerly it was ordained that when noble men were made knights, they should be armed at all points, as if they were about to do battle. But it was not held good that their heads should be covered, for they who cover their heads do so for two reasons: the one to hide something there which hath an ill look, and for that reason they may well cover them with any fair and becoming covering. The other reason is, when a man hath done some unseemly thing of which he is ashamed. And this in no wise becometh noble knights. For when they are about to receive so noble and so honourable a thing as knighthood, it is not fitting that they should enter into it with any evil shame, neither with fear. And when they shall have girded on his sword, they shall draw it from out the scabbard, and place it in his right hand, and make him swear these three things: first, That be shall not fear to die for his faith, if need be; secondly, For