They are as thou couldst wish, the old man replied, Wert thou but lord of thine own house again, And Spain were Spain once more. A tale of ill I bear, but one that touches not the heart Like what thy fears forebode. The renegade Numacian woos thy sister, and she lends To the vile slave, unworthily, her ear: The Lady Gaudiosa hath in vain Warn’d her of all the evils which await A union thus accurst: she sets at nought Her faith, her lineage, and thy certain wrath. Pelayo hearing him, remain’d awhile Silent; then turning to his mother’s grave, ... O thou poor dust, hath then the infectious taint Survived thy dread remorse, that it should run In Guisla’s veins? he cried; ... I should have heard This shameful sorrow any where but here!... Humble thyself, proud heart; thou, gracious Heaven, Be merciful!... it is the original flaw, ... And what are we?... a weak unhappy race, Born to our sad inheritance of sin And death!... He smote his forehead as he spake, And from his head the ashes fell, like snow Shaken from some dry beech-leaves, when a bird Lights on the bending spray. A little while In silence, rather than in thought, he stood Passive beneath the sorrow: turning then, And what doth Gaudiosa counsel me? He ask’d the old man; for she hath ever been My wise and faithful counsellor.... He replied, The Lady Gaudiosa bade me say She sees the danger which on every part Besets her husband’s house.... Here she had ceased; But when my noble Mistress gave in charge, How I should tell thee that in evil times The bravest counsels ever are the best; Then that high-minded Lady thus rejoin’d, Whatever be my Lord’s resolve, he knows I bear a mind prepared. Brave spirits! cried Pelayo, worthy to remove all stain Of weakness from their sex! I should be less Than man, if, drawing strength where others find Their hearts most open to assault of fear, I quail’d at danger. Never be it said Of Spain, that in the hour of her distress Her women were as heroes, but her men Perform’d the woman’s part. Roderick at that Look’d up, and taking up the word, exclaim’d, O Prince, in better days the pride of Spain, And prostrate as she lies, her surest hope, Hear now my tale. The fire which seem’d extinct Hath risen revigorate: a living spark From Auria’s ashes, by a woman’s hand Preserved and quicken’d, kindles far and wide The beacon-flame o’er all the Asturian hills. There hath a vow been offer’d up, which binds Us and our children’s children to the work Of holy hatred. In the name of Spain That vow hath been pronounced, and register’d Above, to be the bond whereby we stand For condemnation or acceptance. Heaven Received the irrevocable vow, and Earth Must witness its fulfilment; Earth and Heaven Call upon thee, Pelayo! Upon thee The spirits of thy royal ancestors