“Asturia first and noblest raised the cry-- Cantabria still untamed the yoke to bear Our own Biscaya sees with Baston vie-- Oviédo’s lightning flies to Santandér. It wakes Galicia, kindling Leon’s air. Castile, unconquered Aragon, Navarre, The standard of revolt successive bear. Valencian, Catalan, and And’luz far The cry devoted raise: ‘Against the Invader War!’ XI. “And lightning fell, ’twas said, upon the shrine Of Guadalupe within the fatal hour That saw the last of Leon’s Royal line Retire to France, and own the Usurper’s power. In Covadonga, where Mafoma’s flower Pelayo slaughtered, drops of sweat were seen Upon the face of Her who stood our tower In battle; Compostella’s tomb a din Of arms gave forth, Saint James proclaiming we should win! XII. “Thus spoke the general voice--thus Spain believed, And, Heaven and Earth approving, rushed to arms. The web of Tyranny was swift unweaved, The land was soon o’erspread by War’s alarms; For Freedom’s fire once lit intensely charms! But terrible at first in dire excess Rude license many a timid patriot harms. If perished tyrant-tools yet, ah, not less Good men, too, slaughtered fell in butchery’s helplessness. XIII. “’Twas then the Asturian seniors crost the sea, And I amongst the number, as ye know, To Albion’s glorious Island of the free, Her aid demanding ’gainst the general foe. And grand and mighty was the enthusiast flow From brave and generous hearts we witnessed there. Our strife forgot, our feuds aside we throw, Like ancient warriors after battle share The social rite, and war combined ’gainst France declare. XIV. “But Spain would first her might unaided try, And arms and subsidy alone we sought; With pain Britannia curbed her spirit high, But doughtiest weapons to the strife we brought. Our earlier efforts in the conflict nought Availed us--France her legions marshalled well. Undisciplined our valour marvels wrought; But ’gainst Gaul’s serried phalanx to rebel Was no light peasant’s task, and hundreds fighting fell. XV. “Oh, wondrous power of Discipline in war! Spain’s men despised the conscript boys of France; Iberia’s sons were stronger, statelier far, More powerful arm to arm to wield the lance. But when untrained, disordered they advance, The unbroken, slender column mows them down. ’Tis thus wild horses o’er the Pampas prance, The lasso by the light-limbed rider’s thrown, The strong steed flung to earth his victor hand must own. XVI.