Lope seized the occasion, and wrote a long poem on the life of “Isidro the Ploughman,” or Farmer; so called to distinguish him from the learned saint of Seville who bore the same name. It consists of ten thousand lines, exactly divided among the ten books of which it is composed; and yet it was finished within the year, and published in 1599. It has no high poetical merit, and does not, indeed, aspire to any. But it was intended to be popular, and succeeded. It is written in the old national five-line stanza, carefully rhymed throughout; and, notwithstanding the apparent difficulty of the measure, it everywhere affords unequivocal proof of that facility and fluency of versification for which Lope became afterwards so famous. Its tone, which, on the most solemn matters of religion, is so familiar that we should now consider it indecorous, was no doubt in full consent with the spirit of the times and one main cause of its success. Thus, in Canto Third, where the angels come to Isidro and his wife Mary, who are too poor to entertain them, Lope describes the scene--which ought to be as solemn as any thing in the poem, since it involves the facts on which Isidro’s claim to canonization was subsequently admitted--in the following light verses, which may serve as a specimen of the measure and style of the whole:-- Three angels, sent by grace divine, Once on a time blessed Abraham’s sight;-- To Mamre came that vision bright, Whose number should our thoughts incline To Him of whom the Prophets write. But six now came to Isidore! And, heavenly powers! what consternation! Where is his hospitable store? Surely they come with consolation, And not to get a timely ration. Still, if in haste unleavened bread Mary, like Sarah, now could bake, Or Isidore, like Abraham, take The lamb that in its pasture fed, And honey from its waxen cake, I know he would his guests invite;-- But whoso ploughs not, it is right His sufferings the price should pay;-- And how has Isidore a way Six such to harbour for a night? And yet he stands forgiven there, Though friendly bidding he make none; For poverty prevents alone;-- But, Isidore, thou still canst spare What surest rises to God’s throne. Let Abraham to slay arise; But, on the ground, in sacrifice, Give, Isidore, thy soul to God, Who never doth the heart despise That bows beneath his rod. He did not ask for Isaac’s death; He asked for Abraham’s willing faith.[233]