Her xaquetilla, to the shape most lithe, Was of cerulean velvet, room supplying For her full bosom’s play, when free and blithe She plied the oar, yet to her form close lying, Which no compression needed, art defying. Two billows heaved within, as on the tide She mastered, with its foam in whiteness vying; And from her ears to every turn of pride Two tiniest silver bells with tinklings sweet replied. XLII. So fair the maid in infancy had been, That San Sebastian chose her then to bear A cherub’s wings amid the festal scene Her warrior-patron’s day that honours there. And with her foster-sister not less fair, The noble Isidora, hand in hand, Oft walked she thus in childhood--beauteous pair! Though tender still their loves apart they stand, For San Sebastian’s siege the approach of Blanca banned. XLIII. She was the leader of the virgin group, The Delia of that race of shallops gay; And vigorous-handed to the oar could stoop, When gales tempestuous tost the stormy Bay. For high the spirit of that lightsome fay, And bold as Manuela’s self, the Maid Of Zaragoza, she could guide the fray, The French marauders menaced undismayed, And oft her wild guitar thus prompted to the raid:-- The Spanish Song of Freedom. 1. Let the brave, let the brave fill the battered War-chalice, fair Freedom, to thee; On the slave, on the slave be it shattered, Unless the slave pant to be free! In glory, in glory we’ll perish, Ere tyrants shall wither our plains. This nectar, this nectar shall cherish No dastard who spurns not his chains! Let the brave, let the brave fill the battered War-chalice, fair Freedom, to thee; On the slave, on the slave be it shattered, Unless the slave pant to be free! _Libertad, libertad sacrosanta!_ Were death in the depths of the flask, _Libertad, libertad mi encanta_, We’ll drain it to “Free be the Basque!” 2. For our homes, for our homes and our altars, For our wives and our children we fight; We but scoff at their dungeons and halters, As bursts Freedom’s sun into light! While our rights, while our rights we are seeking, Great Power! ’tis thy will we maintain; Though our swords, though our swords may be reeking With blood, ’tis in rending the chain! Let the brave, let the brave fill the battered War-chalice, fair Freedom, to thee; On the slave, on the slave be it shattered, Unless the slave pant to be free! _Libertad, libertad sacrosanta!_ Were death in the goblet we drain, _Libertad los tiranos espanta_, We’ll pledge to the freedom of Spain!