Rose not the vision then upon thy soul, O Roderick, when within that argent field Thou saw’st the rampant Lion, red as if Upon some noblest quarry he had roll’d, Rejoicing in his satiate rage, and drunk With blood and fury? Did the auguries Which open’d on thy spirit bring with them A perilous consolation, deadening heart And soul, yea worse than death, ... that thou through all Thy checquer’d way of life, evil and good, Thy errors and thy virtues, had’st but been The poor mere instrument of things ordain’d, Doing or suffering, impotent alike To will or act, ... perpetually bemock’d With semblance of volition, yet in all Blind worker of the ways of destiny! That thought intolerable, which in the hour Of woe indignant conscience had repell’d, As little might it find reception now, When the regenerate spirit self-approved Beheld its sacrifice complete. With faith Elate, he saw the banner’d Lion float Refulgent, and recall’d that thrilling shout Which he had heard when on Romano’s grave The joy of victory woke him from his dream, And sent him with prophetic hope to work Fulfilment of the great events ordain’d, There in imagination’s inner world Prefigured to his soul. Alone, advanced Before the ranks, the Goth in silence stood, While from all voices round, loquacious joy Mingled its buzz continuous with the blast Of horn, shrill pipe, and tinkling cymbals’ clash, And sound of deafening drum. But when the Prince Drew nigh, and Urban with the Cross upheld Stept forth to meet him, all at once were still’d With instantaneous hush; as when the wind, Before whose violent gusts the forest oaks, Tossing like billows their tempestuous heads, Roar like a raging sea, suspends its force, And leaves so dead a calm that not a leaf Moves on the silent spray. The passing air Bore with it from the woodland undisturb’d The ringdove’s wooing, and the quiet voice Of waters warbling near. Son of a race Of Heroes and of Kings! the Primate thus Address’d him, Thou in whom the Gothic blood, Mingling with old Iberia’s, hath restored To Spain a ruler of her native line, Stand forth, and in the face of God and man Swear to uphold the right, abate the wrong, With equitable hand, protect the Cross Whereon thy lips this day shall seal their vow, And underneath that hallow’d symbol, wage Holy and inextinguishable war Against the accursëd nation that usurps Thy country’s sacred soil! So speak of me Now and for ever, O my countrymen! Replied Pelayo; and so deal with me Here and hereafter, thou, Almighty God, In whom I put my trust! Lord God of Hosts, Urban pursued, of Angels and of Men Creator and Disposer, King of Kings, Ruler of Earth and Heaven, ... look down this day, And multiply thy blessings on the head