“’Tis said and sung--but History doubtless lies-- That great Fernando here and Isabel, Beneath this aged oak, these mountain skies, Swore to maintain Biscaya’s rights full well. ’Tis said that those who lived where now ye dwell-- I did not say your fathers--with their swords Won and preserved their fuéros from the fell Assaults of native tyrants--idle words! Ye know the fuéros melt i’ th’ breath of foreign lords. X. “’Tis said Biscaya’s lawgivers of old Beneath this venerable Druid shade, Ancestral lord, and priest, and peasant bold, Met in due time and firmest fuéros made. ’Tis said--but chronicling’s a lying trade-- That hearts of oak beneath this oak did meet To guard the old Basque freedom. Undecayed The oak is still, and hark what voices sweet, As from Dodona’s, bid the Basque his deeds repeat! XI. “’Tis said this Spanish soil once men did rear, Whom Rome and Carthage trembled to oppose. Sagunthus, and Numance, and Bilbil here Terrific bulwarks in their pathway rose, Ere yielding crushed by self-destroying blows! ’Tis said Viriatus the Guerrilla storm Poured from the mountains first ’gainst Roman foes, And Sylla and Pompey smote Sertorius warm, Till treachery triumphed. Gaul’s complacent slaves _ye_ form! XII. “’Tis said Bernardo with resistless lance At Roncesvalles Roland’s prowess crushed, When Carlomain for this same haughty France Claimed Leon’s crown, and down Pyrene rushed. There Roland’s blood with many a Peer’s, too, gushed! ’Tis said that more than this e’en Spaniards did, When bold Ruy Diaz on Bavieca, flushed With victory, led the Oca hills amid Five Moorish Kings who long paid tribute to the Cid! XIII. “I see the warrior-boy on gallant steed Spur to the battle proudly o’er the plain, His eye resolved to make the Moslem bleed,-- His bounding bosom scorns to wear a chain! His lance in rest, his armour without stain, He panteth for the mêlée hand to hand; Enough his guerdon that he strikes for Spain. Wo to the hostile ranks that dare to stand Before that fiery Chief’s dread lance and lightning brand! XIV. “Such Spaniards were--in days long past away-- Who drove the Invader forth, nor asked for aid. I need not speak what Spaniards are to-day. Oh, let not Britons thus the Basque o’ershade. At least be drawn Bilbáo’s trusty blade!”-- Flushed many a cheek, “_Las armas!_” was the cry. With hasty-buckled swords the high-souled maid, And firelocks true, soon saw them gathering nigh, And ’neath the sacred oak flashed many a warlike eye: The Gathering.