XVIII. THE ACCLAMATION.

Now, when from Covadonga, down the vale

Holding his way, the princely mountaineer

Came with that happy family in sight

Of Cangas and his native towers, far off

He saw before the gate, in fair array,

The assembled land. Broad banners were display’d,

And spears were sparkling to the sun, shields shone,

And helmets glitter’d, and the blairing horn,

With frequent sally of impatient joy,

Provoked the echoes round. Well he areeds,

From yonder ensigns and augmented force,

That Odoar and the Primate from the west

Have brought their aid; but wherefore all were thus

Instructed as for some great festival,

He found not, till Favila’s quicker eye

Catching the ready buckler, the glad boy

Leapt up, and clapping his exultant hands,

Shouted, King! King! my father shall be King

This day! Pelayo started at the word,

And the first thought which smote him brought a sigh

For Roderick’s fall; the second was of hope,

Deliverance for his country, for himself

Enduring fame, and glory for his line.

That high prophetic forethought gather’d strength,

As looking to his honour’d mate, he read

Her soul’s accordant augury; her eyes

Brighten’d; the quicken’d action of the blood

Tinged with a deeper hue her glowing cheek,

And on her lips there sate a smile which spake

The honourable pride of perfect love,

Rejoicing, for her husband’s sake, to share

The lot he chose, the perils he defied,

The lofty fortune which their faith foresaw.

Roderick, in front of all the assembled troops,

Held the broad buckler, following to the end

That steady purpose to the which his zeal

Had this day wrought the Chiefs. Tall as himself,

Erect it stood beside him, and his hands

Hung resting on the rim. This was an hour

That sweeten’d life, repaid and recompensed

All losses; and although it could not heal

All griefs, yet laid them for awhile to rest.

The active agitating joy that fill’d

The vale, that with contagious influence spread

Through all the exulting mountaineers, that gave

New ardour to all spirits, to all breasts

Inspired fresh impulse of excited hope,

Moved every tongue, and strengthen’d every limb, ...

That joy which every man reflected saw

From every face of all the multitude,

And heard in every voice, in every sound,

Reach’d not the King. Aloof from sympathy,

He from the solitude of his own soul

Beheld the busy scene. None shared or knew

His deep and incommunicable joy;

None but that heavenly Father, who alone

Beholds the struggles of the heart, alone

Sees and rewards the secret sacrifice.

Among the chiefs conspicuous, Urban stood,

He whom, with well-weigh’d choice, in arduous time

To arduous office the consenting Church

Had call’d when Sindered fear-smitten fled;

Unfaithful shepherd, who for life alone

Solicitous, forsook his flock, when most

In peril and in suffering they required

A pastor’s care. Far off at Rome he dwells

In ignominious safety, while the Church

Keeps in her annals the deserter’s name,

But from the service which with daily zeal

Devout her ancient prelacy recalls,

Blots it, unworthy to partake her prayers.

Urban, to that high station thus being call’d,

From whence disanimating fear had driven

The former primate, for the general weal

Consulting first, removed with timely care

The relics and the written works of Saints,

Toledo’s choicest treasure, prized beyond

All wealth, their living and their dead remains;

These to the mountain fastnesses he bore

Of unsubdued Cantabria, there deposed,

One day to be the boast of yet unbuilt

Oviedo, and the dear idolatry

Of multitudes unborn. To things of state

Then giving thought mature, he held advice

With Odoar, whom of counsel competent

And firm of heart he knew. What then they plann’d,

Time and the course of over-ruled events

To earlier act had ripen’d, than their hope

Had ever in its gladdest dream proposed;

And here by agents unforeseen, and means

Beyond the scope of foresight brought about,

This day they saw their dearest heart’s desire

Accorded them: All-able Providence

Thus having ordered all, that Spain this hour

With happiest omens, and on surest base,

Should from its ruins rear again her throne.

For acclamation and for sacring now

One form must serve, more solemn for the breach

Of old observances, whose absence here

Deeplier impress’d the heart, than all display

Of regal pomp and wealth pontifical,

Of vestments radiant with their gems, and stiff

With ornature of gold; the glittering train,

The long procession, and the full-voiced choir.

This day the forms of piety and war,

In strange but fitting union must combine.

Not in his alb and cope and orary

Came Urban now, nor wore he mitre here,

Precious or auriphrygiate; bare of head

He stood, all else in arms complete, and o’er

His gorget’s iron rings the pall was thrown

Of wool undyed, which on the Apostle’s tomb

Gregory had laid, and sanctified with prayer;

That from the living Pontiff and the dead

Replete with holiness, it might impart

Doubly derived its grace. One Page beside

Bore his broad-shadow’d helm; another’s hand

Held the long spear, more suited in these times

For Urban, than the crosier richly wrought

With silver foliature, the elaborate work

Of Grecian or Italian artist, train’d

In the eastern capital, or sacred Rome,

Still o’er the West predominant, though fallen.

Better the spear befits the shepherd’s hand

When robbers break the fold. Now he had laid

The weapon by, and held a natural cross

Of rudest form, unpeel’d, even as it grew

On the near oak that morn.

Mutilate alike

Of royal rites was this solemnity.

Where was the rubied crown, the sceptre where,

And where the golden pome, the proud array

Of ermines, aureate vests, and jewelry,

With all which Leuvigild for after kings

Left, ostentatious of his power? The Moor

Had made his spoil of these, and on the field

Of Xeres, where contending multitudes

Had trampled it beneath their bloody feet,

The standard of the Goths forgotten lay

Defiled, and rotting there in sun and rain.

Utterly is it lost; nor ever more

Herald or antiquary’s patient search

Shall from forgetfulness avail to save

Those blazon’d arms, so fatally of old

Renown’d through all the affrighted Occident.

That banner, before which imperial Rome

First to a conqueror bow’d her head abased;

Which when the dreadful Hun, with all his powers,

Came like a deluge rolling o’er the world,

Made head, and in the front of battle broke

His force, till then resistless; which so oft

Had with alternate fortune braved the Frank:

Driven the Byzantine from the farthest shores

Of Spain, long lingering there, to final flight;

And of their kingdoms and their name despoil’d

The Vandal, and the Alan, and the Sueve;

Blotted from human records is it now

As it had never been. So let it rest

With things forgotten! But Oblivion ne’er

Shall cancel from the historic roll, nor Time,

Who changeth all, obscure that fated sign,

Which brighter now than mountain snows at noon

To the bright sun displays its argent field.

Rose not the vision then upon thy soul,

O Roderick, when within that argent field

Thou saw’st the rampant Lion, red as if

Upon some noblest quarry he had roll’d,

Rejoicing in his satiate rage, and drunk

With blood and fury? Did the auguries

Which open’d on thy spirit bring with them

A perilous consolation, deadening heart

And soul, yea worse than death, ... that thou through all

Thy checquer’d way of life, evil and good,

Thy errors and thy virtues, had’st but been

The poor mere instrument of things ordain’d,

Doing or suffering, impotent alike

To will or act, ... perpetually bemock’d

With semblance of volition, yet in all

Blind worker of the ways of destiny!

That thought intolerable, which in the hour

Of woe indignant conscience had repell’d,

As little might it find reception now,

When the regenerate spirit self-approved

Beheld its sacrifice complete. With faith

Elate, he saw the banner’d Lion float

Refulgent, and recall’d that thrilling shout

Which he had heard when on Romano’s grave

The joy of victory woke him from his dream,

And sent him with prophetic hope to work

Fulfilment of the great events ordain’d,

There in imagination’s inner world

Prefigured to his soul.

Alone, advanced

Before the ranks, the Goth in silence stood,

While from all voices round, loquacious joy

Mingled its buzz continuous with the blast

Of horn, shrill pipe, and tinkling cymbals’ clash,

And sound of deafening drum. But when the Prince

Drew nigh, and Urban with the Cross upheld

Stept forth to meet him, all at once were still’d

With instantaneous hush; as when the wind,

Before whose violent gusts the forest oaks,

Tossing like billows their tempestuous heads,

Roar like a raging sea, suspends its force,

And leaves so dead a calm that not a leaf

Moves on the silent spray. The passing air

Bore with it from the woodland undisturb’d

The ringdove’s wooing, and the quiet voice

Of waters warbling near.

Son of a race

Of Heroes and of Kings! the Primate thus

Address’d him, Thou in whom the Gothic blood,

Mingling with old Iberia’s, hath restored

To Spain a ruler of her native line,

Stand forth, and in the face of God and man

Swear to uphold the right, abate the wrong,

With equitable hand, protect the Cross

Whereon thy lips this day shall seal their vow,

And underneath that hallow’d symbol, wage

Holy and inextinguishable war

Against the accursëd nation that usurps

Thy country’s sacred soil!

So speak of me

Now and for ever, O my countrymen!

Replied Pelayo; and so deal with me

Here and hereafter, thou, Almighty God,

In whom I put my trust!

Lord God of Hosts,

Urban pursued, of Angels and of Men

Creator and Disposer, King of Kings,

Ruler of Earth and Heaven, ... look down this day,

And multiply thy blessings on the head

Of this thy servant, chosen in thy sight!

Be thou his counsellor, his comforter,

His hope, his joy, his refuge, and his strength;

Crown him with justice, and with fortitude,

Defend him with thine all-sufficient shield,

Surround him every where with the right hand

Of thine all-present power, and with the might

Of thine omnipotence, send in his aid

Thy unseen Angels forth, that potently

And royally against all enemies

He may endure and triumph! Bless the land

O’er which he is appointed: bless thou it

With the waters of the firmament, the springs

Of the low-lying deep, the fruits which Sun

And Moon mature for man, the precious stores

Of the eternal hills, and all the gifts

Of Earth, its wealth and fulness!

Then he took

Pelayo’s hand, and on his finger placed

The mystic circlet.... With this ring, O Prince,

To our dear Spain, who like a widow now

Mourneth in desolation, I thee wed:

For weal or woe thou takest her, till death

Dispart the union: Be it blest to her,

To thee, and to thy seed!

Thus when he ceased,

He gave the awaited signal. Roderick brought

The buckler: Eight for strength and stature chosen

Came to their honour’d office: Round the shield

Standing, they lower it for the Chieftain’s feet,

Then, slowly raised upon their shoulders, lift

The steady weight. Erect Pelayo stands,

And thrice he brandishes the burnish’d sword,

While Urban to the assembled people cries,

Spaniards, behold your King! The multitude

Then sent forth all their voice with glad acclaim,

Raising the loud Real; thrice did the word

Ring through the air, and echo from the walls

Of Cangas. Far and wide the thundering shout,

Rolling among reduplicating rocks,

Peal’d o’er the hills, and up the mountain vales.

The wild ass starting in the forest glade

Ran to the covert; the affrighted wolf

Skulk’d through the thicket to a closer brake;

The sluggish bear, awakened in his den,

Roused up and answer’d with a sullen growl,

Low-breathed and long; and at the uproar scared,

The brooding eagle from her nest took wing.

Heroes and Chiefs of old! and ye who bore

Firm to the last your part in that dread strife,

When Julian and Witiza’s viler race

Betray’d their country, hear ye from yon Heaven

The joyful acclamation which proclaims

That Spain is born again! O ye who died

In that disastrous field, and ye who fell

Embracing with a martyr’s love your death

Amid the flames of Auria; and all ye

Victims innumerable, whose cries unheard

On earth, but heard in Heaven, from all the land

Went up for vengeance; not in vain ye cry

Before the eternal throne!... Rest innocent blood!

Vengeance is due, and vengeance will be given,

Rest innocent blood! The appointed age is come!

The star that harbingers a glorious day

Hath risen! Lo there the Avenger stands! Lo there

He brandishes the avenging sword! Lo there

The avenging banner spreads its argent field

Refulgent with auspicious light!... Rejoice,

O Leon, for thy banner is displayed,

Rejoice with all thy mountains, and thy vales

And streams! And thou, O Spain, through all thy realms,

For thy deliverance cometh! Even now,

As from all sides the miscreant hosts move on ...

From southern Betis; from the western lands,

Where through redundant vales smooth Minho flows,

And Douro pours through vine-clad hills the wealth

Of Leon’s gathered waters; from the plains

Burgensian, in old time Vardulia call’d,

But in their castellated strength ere long

To be design’d Castille, a deathless name;

From midland regions where Toledo reigns

Proud city on her royal eminence,

And Tagus bends his sickle round the scene

Of Roderick’s fall; from rich Rioja’s fields;

Dark Ebro’s shores; the walls of Salduba,

Seat of the Sedetanians old, by Rome

Cæsarian and August denominate,

Now Zaragoza, in this later time

Above all cities of the earth renown’d

For duty perfectly perform’d; ... East, West

And South, where’er their gather’d multitudes

Urged by the speed of vigorous tyranny,

With more than with commeasurable strength

Haste to prevent the danger, crush the hopes

Of rising Spain, and rivet round her neck

The eternal yoke, ... the ravenous fowls of heaven

Flock there presentient of their food obscene,

Following the accursed armies, whom too well

They know their purveyors long. Pursue their march,

Ominous attendants! Ere the moon hath fill’d

Her horns, these purveyors shall become the prey,

And ye on Moorish not on Christian flesh

Wearying your beaks, shall clog your scaly feet

With foreign gore. Soon will ye learn to know,

Followers and harbingers of blood, the flag

Of Leon where it bids you to your feast!

Terror and flight shall with that flag go forth,

And Havoc and the Dogs of War and Death.

Thou Covadonga with the tainted stream

Of Deva, and this now rejoicing vale,

Soon its primitial triumphs wilt behold!

Nor shall the glories of the noon be less

Than such miraculous promise of the dawn:

Witness Clavijo, where the dreadful cry

Of Santiago, then first heard, o’erpower’d

The Akbar, and that holier name blasphemed

By misbelieving lips! Simancas, thou

Be witness! And do ye your record bear,

Tolosan mountains, where the Almohade

Beheld his myriads scatter’d and destroy’d,

Like locusts swept before the stormy North!

Thou too, Salado, on that later day

When Africa received her final foil,

And thy swoln stream incarnadined, roll’d back

The invaders to the deep, ... there shall they toss

Till on their native Mauritanian shore

The waves shall cast their bones to whiten there.