Its long fore-purposed shame: the toils were laid, And she who by the Musselmen full sure Thought on her kindred her revenge to wreak, Led the Moors in. Count Pedro and his son Were hovering with the main Asturian force In the wider vale to watch occasion there, And with hot onset when the alarm began Pursue the vantage. In the fated straits Of Deva had the King disposed the rest: Amid the hanging woods, and on the cliffs, A long mile’s length on either side its bed, They lay. The lever and the axe and saw Had skilfully been plied; and trees and stones, A dread artillery, ranged on crag and shelf And steep descent, were ready at the word Precipitate to roll resistless down. The faithful maiden not more wistfully Looks for the day that brings her lover home; ... Scarce more impatiently the horse endures The rein, when loud and shrill the hunter’s horn Rings in his joyous ears, than at their post The Mountaineers await their certain prey; Yet mindful of their Prince’s order, oft And solemnly enforced, with eagerness Subdued by minds well-master’d, they expect The appointed signal. Hand must not be raised, Foot stirr’d, nor voice be utter’d, said the Chief, Till the word pass: impatience would mar all. God hath deliver’d over to your hands His enemies and ours, so we but use The occasion wisely. Not till the word pass From man to man transmitted, “In the name “Of God, for Spain and Vengeance!” let a hand Be lifted; on obedience all depends, Their march below with noise of horse and foot And haply with the clang of instruments, Might drown all other signal, this is sure; But wait it calmly; it will not be given Till the whole line hath enter’d in the toils. Comrades, be patient, so shall none escape Who once set foot within these straits of death. Thus had Pelayo on the Mountaineers With frequent and impressive charge enforced The needful exhortation. This alone He doubted, that the Musselmen might see The perils of the vale, and warily Forbear to enter. But they thought to find, As Guisla told, the main Asturian force Seeking concealment there, no other aid Soliciting from these their native hills; And that the babes and women having fallen In thraldom, they would lay their weapons down, And supplicate forgiveness for their sake. Nor did the Moors perceive in what a strait They enter’d; for the morn had risen o’ercast, And when the Sun had reach’d the height of heaven, Dimly his pale and beamless orb was seen Moving through mist. A soft and gentle rain, Scarce heavier than the summer’s evening dew, Descended, ... through so still an atmosphere, That every leaf upon the moveless trees Was studded o’er with rain-drops, bright and full, None falling till from its own weight o’erswoln The motion came. Low on the mountain side