THOU hast been busy, Death, this day, and yet
But half thy work is done! The Gates of Hell
Are thronged, yet twice ten thousand spirits more,
Who from their warm and healthful tenements
Fear no divorce, must ere the sun go down
Enter the world of woe! the Gate of Heaven
Is open too, and Angels round the throne
Of Mercy on their golden harps this day
Shall sing the triumphs of Redeeming Love.
There was a Church at Cangas dedicate
To that Apostle unto whom his Lord
Had given the keys: a humble edifice,
Whose rude and time-worn structure suited well
That vale among the mountains. Its low roof
With stone plants and with moss was overgrown,
Short fern, and richer weeds which from the eaves
Hung their long tresses down. White lichens clothed
The sides, save where the ivy spread, which bowered
The porch, and clustering round the pointed wall,
Wherein two bells, each open to the wind,
Hung side by side, threaded with hairy shoots
The double nich; and climbing to the cross,
Wreathed it and half concealed its sacred form
With bushy tufts luxuriant. Here in the font, . .
Borne thither with rejoicings and with prayers
Of all the happy land who saw in him
The lineage of their ancient Chiefs renewed,..
The Prince had been immersed: and here within
An oaken galilee, now black with age,
His old Iberian ancestors were laid.
Two stately oaks stood near, in the full growth
Of many a century. They had flourished there
Before the Gothic sword was felt in Spain,
And when the ancient sceptre of the Goths
Was broken, there they flourished still. Their boughs
Mingled on high, and stretching wide around,
Formed a deep shade, beneath which canopy
Upon the ground Count Julian's board was spread,
For to his daughter he had left his tent
Pitched for her use hard by. He at the board
Sate with his trusted Captains, Gunderick,
Felix and Miro, Theudered and Paul,
Basil and Cottila, and Virimar,
Men through all fortunes faithful to their Lord,
And to that old and tried fidelity,
By personal love and honour held in ties
Strong as religious bonds. As there they sate,
In the distant vale a rising dust was seen,
And frequent flash of steel,.. the flying fight
Of men who, by a fiery foe pursued,
Put forth their coursers at full speed, to reach
The aid in which they trust. Up sprung the Chiefs,
And hastily taking helm and shield, and spear,
Sped to their post.
Amid the chesnut groves
On Sella's side, Alphonso had in charge
To watch the foe; a prowling band came nigh,
Whom with the ardour of impetuous youth
He charged and followed them in close pursuit:
Quick succours joined them; and the strife grew hot,
Ere Pedro hastening to bring off his son,
Or Julian and his Captains,.. bent alike
That hour to abstain from combat, (for by this
Full sure they deemed Alcahman had secured
The easy means of certain victory,)..
Could reach the spot. Both thus in their intent
According, somewhat had they now allayed
The fury of the fight, though still spears flew,
And strokes of sword and mace were interchanged,
When passing through the troop a Moor came up
On errand from the Chief, to Julian sent;
A fatal errand fatally performed
For Julian, for the Chief, and for himself,
And all that host of Musslemen he brought;
For while with well-dissembled words he lured
The warrior's ear, the dexterous ruffian marked
The favouring moment and unguarded place,
And plunged a javelin in his side. The Count
Fell, but in falling called to Cottila,
Treachery! the Moor! the Moor!.. He too on whom
He called had seen the blow from whence it came,
And seized the murderer. Miscreant! he exclaimed,
Who set thee on? The Mussleman, who saw
His secret purpose baffled, undismayed,
Replies, What I have done is authorized;
To punish treachery and prevent worse ill
Orpas and Abulcacem sent me here;
The service of the Caliph and the Faith
Required the blow.
The Prophet and the Fiend
Reward thee then! cried Cottila; meantime
Take thou from me thy proper earthly meed;
Villain!.. and lifting, as he spake, the sword,
He smote him on the neck: the trenchant blade
Through vein and artery past and yielding bone;
And on the shoulder, as the assassin dropt,
His head half-severed fell. The curse of God
Fall on the Caliph and the Faith and thee!
Stamping for anguish, Cottila pursued;
African dogs! thus is it ye requite
Our services?.. But dearly shall ye pay
For this day's work!.. O Fellow-soldiers, here,
Stretching his hands toward the host, he cried,
Behold your noble leader basely slain !
He who for twenty years hath led us forth
To war, and brought us home with victory,
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