The camp is stirring, and ere day hath dawn’d The tents are struck. Early they rise whom hope Awakens, and they travel fast with whom She goes companion of the way. By noon Hath Abulcacem in his speed attain’d The vale of Cangas. Well the trusty scouts Observe his march, and fleet as mountain roes, From post to post with instantaneous speed The warning bear: none else is nigh; the vale Hath been deserted, and Pelayo’s hall Is open to the foe, who on the tower Hoist their white signal-flag. In Sella’s stream The misbelieving multitudes perform, With hot and hasty hand, their noontide rite, Then hurryingly repeat the Impostor’s prayer. Here they divide; the Chieftain halts with half The host, retaining Julian and his men, Whom where the valley widen’d he disposed, Liable to first attack, that so the deed Of murder plann’d with Orpas might be done. The other force the Moor Alcahman led, Whom Guisla guided up Pionia’s stream Eastward to Soto. Ibrahim went with him, Proud of Granada’s snowy heights subdued, And boasting of his skill in mountain war; Yet sure he deem’d an easier victory Awaited him this day. Little, quoth he, Weens the vain Mountaineer who puts his trust In dens and rocky fastnesses, how close Destruction is at hand! Belike he thinks The Humma’s happy wings have shadow’d him, And therefore Fate with royalty must crown His chosen head! Pity the scymitar With its rude edge so soon should interrupt The pleasant dream! There can be no escape For those who in the cave seek shelter, cried Alcahman; yield they must, or from their holes Like bees we smoke them out. The Chief perhaps May reign awhile King of the wolves and bears, Till his own subjects hunt him down, or kites And crows divide what hunger may have left Upon his ghastly limbs. Happier for him That destiny should this day to our hands Deliver him; short would be his sufferings then; And we right joyfully should in one hour Behold our work accomplish’d, and his race Extinct. Thus these in mockery and in thoughts Of bloody triumph, to the future blind, Indulged the scornful vein; nor deem’d that they Whom to the sword’s unsparing edge they doom’d, Even then in joyful expectation pray’d To Heaven for their approach, and at their post Prepared, were trembling with excess of hope. Here in these mountain straits the Mountaineer Had felt his country’s strength insuperable; Here he had pray’d to see the Musselman With all his myriads; therefore had he look’d To Covadonga as a sanctuary Apt for concealment, easy of defence; And Guisla’s flight, though to his heart it sent A pang more poignant for their mother’s sake, Yet did it further in its consequence His hope and project, surer than decoy Well-laid, or best-concerted stratagem. That sullen and revengeful mind, he knew, Would follow to the extremity of guilt