Between St. Felix and the regal seat Of Abdalazis, ancient Cordoba, Lay many a long day’s journey interposed; And many a mountain range hath Roderick cross’d, And many a lovely vale, ere he beheld Where Betis, winding through the unbounded plain Roll’d his majestic waters. There at eve Entering an inn, he took his humble seat With other travellers round the crackling hearth, Where heath and cistus gave their flagrant flame. That flame no longer, as in other times, Lit up the countenance of easy mirth And light discourse: the talk which now went round Was of the grief that press’d on every heart; Of Spain subdued; the sceptre of the Goths Broken; their nation and their name effaced; Slaughter and mourning, which had left no house Unvisited; and shame, which set its mark On every Spaniard’s face. One who had seen His sons fall bravely at his side, bewail’d The unhappy chance which, rescuing him from death, Left him the last of all his family; Yet he rejoiced to think that none who drew Their blood from him remain’d to wear the yoke, Be at the miscreant’s beck, and propagate A breed of slaves to serve them. Here sate one Who told of fair possessions lost, and babes To goodly fortunes born, of all bereft. Another for a virgin daughter mourn’d, The lewd barbarian’s spoil. A fourth had seen His only child forsake him in his age, And for a Moor renounce her hope in Christ. His was the heaviest grief of all, he said; And clenching as he spake his hoary locks, He cursed King Roderick’s soul. Oh curse him not! Roderick exclaim’d, all shuddering as he spake. Oh, for the love of Jesus, curse him not! Sufficient is the dreadful load of guilt That lies upon his miserable soul! O brother, do not curse that sinful soul, Which Jesus suffer’d on the cross to save! But then an old man, who had sate thus long A silent listener, from his seat arose, And moving round to Roderick took his hand; Christ bless thee, brother, for that Christian speech, He said; and shame on me that any tongue Readier than mine was found to utter it! His own emotion fill’d him while he spake, So that he did not feel how Roderick’s hand Shook like a palsied limb; and none could see How, at his well-known voice, the countenance Of that poor traveller suddenly was changed, And sunk with deadlier paleness; for the flame Was spent, and from behind him, on the wall High hung, the lamp with feeble glimmering play’d.