That a thin kerchief will dry all the tears The Lady Guisla sheds! ’Tis the old taint! Said Julian mournfully; from her mother’s womb She brought the inbred wickedness which now In ripe infection blossoms. Woman, woman, Still to the Goths art thou the instrument Of overthrow; thy virtue and thy vice Fatal alike to them! Say rather, cried The insidious renegade, that Allah thus By woman punisheth the idolatry Of those who raise a woman to the rank Of godhead, calling on their Mary’s name With senseless prayers. In vain shall they invoke Her trusted succour now! like silly birds By fear betray’d, they fly into the toils; And this Pelayo, who in lengthen’d war Baffling our force, has thought perhaps to reign Prince of the Mountains, when we hold his wife And offspring at our mercy, must himself Come to the lure. Enough, the Leader said; This unexpected work of favouring Fate Opens an easy way to our desires, And renders farther counsel needless now. Great is the Prophet whose protecting power Goes with the faithful forth! the rebels’ days Are number’d; Allah hath deliver’d them Into our hands! So saying he arose; The Chiefs withdrew, Orpas alone remain’d Obedient to his indicated will. The event, said Abulcacem, hath approved Thy judgement in all points; his daughter comes At the first summons, even as thou saidst; Her errand with the insurgents done, she brings Their well-concerted project back, a safe And unexpected messenger; ... the Moor, The shallow Moor, ... must see and not perceive; Must hear and understand not; yea must bear, Poor easy fool, to serve their after mirth, A part in his own undoing! But just Heaven With this unlook’d-for incident hath marr’d Their complots, and the sword shall cut this web Of treason. Well, the renegade replied, Thou knowest Count Julian’s spirit, quick in wiles, In act audacious. Baffled now, he thinks Either by instant warning to apprize The rebels of their danger, or preserve The hostages when fallen into our power, Till secret craft contrive, or open force Win their enlargement. Haply too he dreams Of Cordoba, the avenger and the friend Of Abdalazis, in that cause to arm Moor against Moor, preparing for himself The victory o’er the enfeebled conquerors. Success in treason hath embolden’d him, And power but serves him for fresh treachery, false To Roderick first, and to the Caliph now. The guilt, said Abulcacem, is confirm’d, The sentence past; all that is now required Is to strike sure and safely. He hath with him A veteran force devoted to his will, Whom to provoke were perilous; nor less Of peril lies there in delay: what course Between these equal dangers should we steer?