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Thus it may best be done; the Mountaineers,

Doubtless, ere long will rouse us with some spur
Of sudden enterprise: at such a time

A trusty minister approaching him

May smite him, so that all shall think the spear
Comes from the hostile troops.

Right counsellor !

Cried Abulcacem, thou shalt have his lands,

The proper meed of thy fidelity:

His daughter thou mayest take or leave. Go now
And find a faithful instrument to put

Our purpose in effect!... And when 'tis done,
The Moor, as Orpas from the tent withdrew,
Muttering pursued,.. look for a like reward
Thyself! that restless head of wickedness
In the grave will brood no treasons.

Other babes

Scream when the Devil, as they spring to life, Infects them with his touch; but thou didst stretch

Thy arms to meet him, and like mother's milk

Suck the congenial evil! Thou hast tried

Both laws, and, were there aught to gain, would prove
A third as readily; but when thy sins

Are weighed, 'twill be against an empty scale,
And neither Prophet will avail thee then!

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XXIII.

THE camp is stirring, and ere day hath dawned
The tents are struck. Early they rise whom hope
Awakens, and they travel fast with whom

She goes companion of the way. By noon
Hath Abulcacem in his speed attained
The vale of Cangas. Well the trusty scouts
Observe his march, and fleet as mountain roes,
From post to post with instantaneous speed
The warning bear: none else is nigh; the vale
Hath been deserted, and Pelayo's hall

Is

open to the foe, who on the tower

Hoist their white signal-flag. In Sella's stream
The misbelieving multitude perform,

With hot and hasty hand, their noontide rite,
Then hurryingly repeat the Impostor's prayer.
Here they divide; the Chieftain halts with half

The host, retaining Julian and his men,

Whom where the valley widened he disposed,
Liable to first attack, that so the deed

Of murder planned with Orpas might be done.
The other force the Moor Alcahman led,
Whom Guisla guided up Pionia's stream
Eastward to Soto. Ibrahim went with him,
Proud of Granada's snowy heights subdued,
And boasting of his skill in mountain war;
Yet sure he deemed an easier victory
Awaited him this day. Little, quoth he,
Weens the vain Mountaineer who puts his trust
In dens and rocky fastnesses, how close

Destruction is at hand! Belike he thinks

The Humma's happy wings have shadowed him,
And therefore Fate with royalty must crown
His chosen head! Pity the scymitar

With its rude edge so soon should interrupt

The pleasant dream!

There can be no escape

For those who in the cave seek shelter, cried
Alcahman; yield they must, or from their holes

Like bees we smoke them out. The Chief perhaps

May reign awhile King of the wolves and bears,
Till his own subjects hunt him down, or kites
And crows divide what hunger may have left
Upon his ghastly limbs. Happier for him
That destiny should this day to our hands
Deliver him; short would be his sufferings then ;
And we right joyfully should in one hour

Behold our work accomplished, and his race
Extinct.

Thus these in mockery and in thoughts

Of bloody triumph, to the future blind,

Indulged the scornful vein; nor deemed that they
Whom to the sword's unsparing edge they doomed,
Even then in joyful expectation prayed

To Heaven for their approach, and, at their post.
Prepared, were trembling with excess of hope.
Here in these mountain straits the Mountaineer
Had felt his country's strength insuperable;
Here he had prayed to see the Mussleman
With all his myriads; therefore had he looked
To Covadonga as a sanctuary

Apt for concealment, easy of defence;

And Guisla's flight, though to his heart it sent

A pang more poignant for their mother's sake,
Yet did it further in its consequence
His hope and project, surer than decoy
Well-laid, or best-concerted stratagem.
That sullen and revengeful mind, he knew,
Would follow to the extremity of guilt

Its long fore-purposed shame: the toils were laid,
And she who by the Musselmen full sure

Thought on her kindred her revenge to wreak,
Led the Moors in.

Count Pedro and his son

Were hovering with the main Asturian force
In the wider vale to watch occasion there,
And with hot onset when the alarm began
Pursue the vantage. In the fated straits
Of Deva had the King disposed the rest:
Amid the hanging woods, and on the cliffs,
A long mile's length on either side its bed,
They lay. The lever and the axe and saw
Had skilfully been plied; and trees and stones,
A dread artillery, ranged on crag and shelf
And steep descent, were ready at the word
Precipitate to roll resistless down.

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