(Oh, that such hills upheld a freeborn race!) XXXI. More bleak to view the hills at length recede, Spain's realms appear whereon her shepherds tend For Spain is compass'd by unyielding foes, And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes. XXXII. Where Lusitania and her sister meet, Deem ye what bounds the rival realms divide? Or ere the jealous queens of nations greet, Doth Tayo interpose his mighty tide? Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall?— Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide, Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall, Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul: XXXIII. But these between a silver streamlet glides, O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills, Dut these between a silver streamlet glides, And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook, Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides. Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook, And vacant on the rippling waves doth look, That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen flow ; For proud each peasant as the noblest duke: Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know 'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. XXXIV. But ere the mingling bounds have far been pass'd, In sullen billows, murmuring and vast, Whilome upon his banks did legions throng Of Moor and knight, in mailed splendour drest: Here ceased the swift their race, here sunk the strong; The Paynim turban and the Christian crest Mix'd on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts opprest. XXXV. Oh, lovely Spain! renown'd, romantic land! That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore? And drove at last the spoilers to their shore? Red gleam'd the cross, and waned the crescent pale, While Afric's echoes thrill'd with Moorish matrons' wail. XXXVI. Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale? Can Volume, Pillar, Pile preserve thee great? Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue, When Flattery sleeps with thee, and History does thee |