San Marcial echoes it with savage pride, The Grand Monarque rebellows it with zeal. Then, when the monsters huge had shook each side With giant laughter, of which every peal Is thunder that can make the despot feel, And waked Pyrene o’er his widest span, While peak to peak replied, and torrents reel With that rejoicing music, as it ran, That spake their savage strength in terror’s tones to man. XXXVI. Dark muffled thus they slept. Yet even in dreams, Such dreams as mountain-spirits give to birth, The thunderous memory lives. Low muttering seems To sullen tell how baleful was that mirth, Whose very faintest echo shook the earth, Gigantic! Downward gathering comes the storm O’er Haya’s flank and Oyarzuno’s girth By crag and deep ravine, till lightning warm With wind and rain it falls o’er Uruméa’s form. XXXVII. And ’mid the thickest of the storm behold Where scud Cantabria’s daughters through the tide, The death-rain from the rampart fronting bold, And bear to Britain’s sons, Hesperia’s pride, The tribute of support for arms allied. Now brighter beams each eye, and heroes wear Unwonted blushes warrior cheeks to hide, And feel thrice-nerved their arms by Beauty rare, Their spirits bounding high: on Valour smiles the fair! XXXVIII. Amongst these maids the beauteous Blanca stood, Pride of the ocean-beat Biscayan coast; A laughing damsel gay yet angel-good, Light-haired, blue-eyed, in Spain no vulgar boast, Where black-eyed maidens are a countless host. With mirth so radiant was her spirit free, That all she gladdened--melting roughest frost: Like her none danced Bolera or Olé, And none could featly touch the light guitar as she. XXXIX. Her auburn hair in clustering curls around Her sunny face now shrouded, now revealed Its beauties, waving with each fairy bound; Her peachy cheek now glancing, now concealed. Her eye the wound it gave next instant healed, So bright yet soft, so keen yet melting tender. A sweetness inexpressible made yield All hearts: ripe lips, and teeth of pearly splendour, Made Nature’s task in vain another charm to lend her. XL. No coif encircling bound her beauteous head, No silken net her tresses rich confined, To mar the lustre which her glances shed; But ribands plain its wild luxuriance bind. She wore no jewels: streamed upon the wind A gauzy veil, with flowers of golden sheen Embroidered, floating gracefully behind, Her only ornament--yet form and mien Proclaimed her thus attired ’mongst hundred maids the queen. XLI.