O noble youth, the Royal Goth pursued, Thy country is in bonds; an impious foe Oppresses her; he brings with him strange laws, Strange language, evil customs, and false faith, And forces them on Spain. Swear that thy soul Will make no covenant with these accursed, But that the sword shall be from this day forth Thy children’s portion, to be handed down From sire to son, a sacred heritage, Through every generation, till the work Be done, and this insulted land hath drunk In sacrifice, the last invader’s blood! Bear witness, ancient Mountains! cried the youth, And ye, my native Streams, who hold your course For ever; ... this dear Earth, and yonder Sky, Be witness! for myself I make the vow, And for my children’s children. Here I stand Their sponsor, binding them in sight of Heaven, As by a new baptismal sacrament, To wage hereditary holy war, Perpetual, patient, persevering war, Till not one living enemy pollute The sacred soil of Spain. So as he ceased, While yet toward the clear blue firmament His eyes were raised, he lifted to his lips The sword, with reverent gesture bending then Devoutly kiss’d its cross. And ye! exclaimed Roderick, as turning to the assembled troop He motion’d with authoritative hand, ... Ye children of the hills and sons of Spain! Through every heart the rapid feeling ran, ... For us! they answer’d all with one accord, And at the word they knelt: People and Prince, The young and old, the father and the son, At once they knelt; with one accord they cried, For us, and for our seed! with one accord They cross’d their fervent arms, and with bent head Inclined toward that aweful voice from whence The inspiring impulse came. The Royal Goth Made answer, I receive your vow for Spain And for the Lord of Hosts: your cause is good, Go forward in his spirit and his strength. Ne’er in his happiest hours had Roderick With such commanding majesty dispensed His princely gifts, as dignified him now, When with slow movement, solemnly upraised, Toward the kneeling troop he spread his arms, As if the expanded soul diffused itself, And carried to all spirits with the act Its effluent inspiration. Silently The people knelt, and when they rose, such awe Held them in silence, that the eagle’s cry, Who far above them, at her highest flight A speck scarce visible, gyred round and round, Was heard distinctly; and the mountain stream, Which from the distant glen sent forth its sounds Wafted upon the wind, grew audible In that deep hush of feeling, like the voice Of waters in the stillness of the night. XIII. COUNT EUDON.