Had, like a thing forgotten, pass’d away; He pitied child and parent, separated By the stern mandate of unfeeling power, And almost with a father’s eyes beheld The boy, his fellow in captivity. For young Alphonso was in truth an heir Of nature’s largest patrimony; rich In form and feature, growing strength of limb, A gentle heart, a soul affectionate, A joyous spirit fill’d with generous thoughts, And genius heightening and ennobling all; The blossom of all manly virtues made His boyhood beautiful. Shield, gracious Heaven, In this ungenial season perilous, ... Thus would Pelayo sometimes breathe in prayer The aspirations of prophetic hope, ... Shield, gracious Heaven, the blooming tree! and let This goodly promise, for thy people’s sake, Yield its abundant fruitage. When the Prince, With hope and fear and grief and shame disturb’d, And sad remembrance, and the shadowy light Of days before him, thronging as in dreams, Whose quick succession fill’d and overpower’d Awhile the unresisting faculty, Could in the calm of troubled thoughts subdued Seek in his heart for counsel, his first care Was for the boy; how best they might evade The Moor, and renegade’s more watchful eye; And leaving in some unsuspicious guise The city, through what unfrequented track Safeliest pursue with speed their dangerous way. Consumed in cares like these, the fleeting hours Went by. The lamps and tapers now grew pale, And through the eastern window slanting fell The roseate ray of morn. Within those walls Returning day restored no cheerful sounds Or joyous motions of awakening life; But in the stream of light the speckled motes, As if in mimicry of insect play, Floated with mazy movement. Sloping down Over the altar pass’d the pillar’d beam, And rested on the sinful woman’s grave As if it enter’d there, a light from Heaven. So be it! cried Pelayo, even so! As in a momentary interval, When thought expelling thought, had left his mind Open and passive to the influxes Of outward sense, his vacant eye was there.... So be it, Heavenly Father, even so! Thus may thy vivifying goodness shed Forgiveness there; for let not thou the groans Of dying penitence, nor my bitter prayers Before thy mercy-seat, be heard in vain! And thou, poor soul, who from the dolorous house Of weeping and of pain, dost look to me To shorten and assuage thy penal term, Pardon me that these hours in other thoughts And other duties than this garb, this night Enjoin, should thus have past! Our mother-land Exacted of my heart the sacrifice; And many a vigil must thy son perform Henceforth in woods and mountain fastnesses, And tented fields, outwatching for her sake The starry host, and ready for the work Of day, before the sun begins his course.