Part 15

Two stately oaks stood nigh, in the full growth Of many a century. They had flourish’d there Before the Gothic sword was felt in Spain, And when the ancient sceptre of the Goths Was broken, there they flourish’d still. Their boughs Mingled on high, and stretching wide around, Form’d a deep shade, beneath which canopy Upon the ground Count Julian’s board was spread, For to his daughter he had left his tent Pitch’d 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 join’d 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 deem’d Alcahman had secured The easy means of certain victory,) ... Could reach the spot. Both thus in their intent According, somewhat had they now allay’d 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 perform’d For Julian, for the Chief, and for himself, And all that host of Musselmen he brought; For while with well-dissembled words he lured The warrior’s ear, the dexterous ruffian mark’d 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 call’d had seen the blow from whence it came, And seized the murderer. Miscreant! he exclaim’d, Who set thee on? The Musselman, 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 pass’d 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, Here he lies foully murdered, ... by the Moors, ... Those whom he trusted, whom he served so well! Our turn is next! but neither will we wait Idly, nor tamely fall! Amid the grief, Tumult, and rage, of those who gather’d round, When Julian could be heard, I have yet life, He said, for vengeance. Virimar, speed thou To yonder Mountaineers, and tell their Chiefs That Julian’s veteran army joins this day Pelayo’s standard! The command devolves On Gunderick. Fellow-soldiers, who so well Redress’d the wrongs of your old General, Ye will not let his death go unrevenged!... Tears then were seen on many an iron cheek, And groans were heard from many a resolute heart, And vows with imprecations mix’d went forth, And curses check’d by sobs. Bear me apart, Said Julian, with a faint and painful voice, And let me see my daughter ere I die.

Scarce had he spoken when the pitying throng Divide before her. Eagerly she came; A deep and fearful lustre in her eye, A look of settled woe, ... pale, deadly pale, Yet to no lamentations giving way, Nor tears nor groans; ... within her breaking heart She bore the grief, and kneeling solemnly Beside him, raised her aweful hands to heaven, And cried, Lord God! be with him in this hour Two things have I to think of, O my child, Vengeance and thee; said Julian. For the first I have provided: what remains of life As best may comfort thee may so be best Employ’d; let me be borne within the church, And thou, with that good man who follows thee, Attend me there. Thus when Florinda heard Her father speak, a gleam of heavenly joy Shone through the anguish of her countenance. O gracious God, she cried, my prayers are heard; Now let me die!... They raised him from the earth; He, knitting as they lifted him his brow, Drew in through open lips and teeth firm-closed His painful breath, and on the lance laid hand, Lest its long shaft should shake the mortal wound. Gently his men with slow and steady step Their suffering burthen bore, and in the Church Before the altar laid him down, his head Upon Florinda’s knees.... Now, friends, said he, Farewell. I ever hoped to meet my death Among ye, like a soldier, ... but not thus! Go join the Asturians; and in after years, When of your old commander ye shall talk, How well he loved his followers, what he was In battle, and how basely he was slain, Let not the tale its fit completion lack, But say how bravely was his death revenged. Vengeance! in that good word doth Julian make His testament; your faithful swords must give The will its full performance. Leave me now, I have done with worldly things. Comrades, farewell, And love my memory! They with copious tears Of burning anger, grief exasperating Their rage, and fury giving force to grief, Hasten’d to form their ranks against the Moors. Julian meantime toward the altar turn’d His languid eyes: That Image, is it not St. Peter, he inquired, he who denied His Lord and was forgiven?... Roderick rejoin’d, It is the Apostle; and may that same Lord, O Julian, to thy soul’s salvation bless The seasonable thought! The dying Count Then fix’d upon the Goth his earnest eyes, No time, said he, is this for bravery, As little for dissemblance. I would fain Die in the faith wherein my fathers died, Whereto they pledged me in mine infancy.... A soldier’s habits, he pursued, have steel’d My spirit, and perhaps I do not fear This passage as I ought. But if to feel That I have sinn’d, and from my soul renounce The Impostor’s faith, which never in that soul Obtain’d a place, ... if at the Saviour’s feet, Laden with guilt, to cast myself and cry, Lord, I believe! help thou my unbelief!... If this in the sincerity of death Sufficeth, ... Father, let me from thy lips Receive the assurances with which the Church Doth bless the dying Christian. Roderick raised His eyes to Heaven, and crossing on his breast His open palms, Mysterious are thy ways And merciful, O gracious Lord! he cried, Who to this end hast thus been pleased to lead My wandering steps! O Father, this thy son Hath sinn’d and gone astray: but hast not Thou Said, When the sinner from his evil ways Turneth, that he shall save his soul alive, And Angels at the sight rejoice in Heaven? Therefore do I, in thy most holy name, Into thy family receive again Him who was lost, and in that name absolve The Penitent.... So saying on the head Of Julian solemnly he laid his hands. Then to the altar tremblingly he turn’d, And took the bread, and breaking it, pursued, Julian! receive from me the Bread of Life! In silence reverently the Count partook The reconciling rite, and to his lips Roderick then held the consecrated cup.

Me too! exclaim’d Florinda, who till then Had listen’d speechlessly; Thou Man of God, I also must partake! The Lord hath heard My prayers! one sacrament, ... one hour, ... one grave, ... One resurrection! That dread office done, Count Julian with amazement saw the Priest Kneel down before him. By the sacrament Which we have here partaken, Roderick cried, In this most aweful moment; by that hope, ... That holy faith which comforts thee in death, Grant thy forgiveness, Julian, ere thou diest! Behold the man who most hath injured thee! Roderick, the wretched Goth, the guilty cause Of all thy guilt, ... the unworthy instrument Of thy redemption, ... kneels before thee here, And prays to be forgiven! Roderick! exclaim’d The dying Count, ... Roderick!... and from the floor With violent effort half he raised himself; The spear hung heavy in his side, and pain And weakness overcame him, that he fell Back on his daughter’s lap. O Death, cried he, ... Passing his hand across his cold damp brow, ... Thou tamest the strong limb, and conquerest The stubborn heart! But yesterday I said One Heaven could not contain mine enemy And me: and now I lift my dying voice To say, Forgive me, Lord, as I forgive Him who hath done the wrong!... He closed his eyes A moment; then with sudden impulse cried, ... Roderick, thy wife is dead, ... the Church hath power To free thee from thy vows, ... the broken heart Might yet be heal’d, the wrong redress’d, the throne Rebuilt by that same hand which pull’d it down, And these cursed Africans.... Oh for a month Of that waste life which millions misbestow!... His voice was passionate, and in his eye With glowing animation while he spake The vehement spirit shone: its effort soon Was past, and painfully with feeble breath In slow and difficult utterance he pursued, ... Vain hope, if all the evil was ordain’d, And this wide wreck the will and work of Heaven, We but the poor occasion! Death will make All clear, and joining us in better worlds, Complete our union there! Do for me now One friendly office more: ... draw forth the spear, And free me from this pain!... Receive his soul, Saviour! exclaim’d the Goth, as he perform’d The fatal service. Julian cried, O friend!... True friend!... and gave to him his dying hand. Then said he to Florinda, I go first, Thou followest!... kiss me, child!... and now good night! When from her father’s body she arose, Her cheek was flush’d, and in her eyes there beam’d A wilder brightness. On the Goth she gazed While underneath the emotions of that hour Exhausted life gave way. O God! she said, Lifting her hands, thou hast restored me all, ... All ... in one hour!... and round his neck she threw Her arms and cried, My Roderick! mine in Heaven! Groaning, he claspt her close, and in that act And agony her happy spirit fled.

XXV.

RODERICK IN BATTLE.

Eight thousand men had to Asturias march’d Beneath Count Julian’s banner; the remains Of that brave army which in Africa So well against the Musselman made head, Till sense of injuries insupportable, And raging thirst of vengeance, overthrew Their leader’s noble spirit. To revenge His quarrel, twice that number left their bones, Slain in unnatural battle, on the field Of Xeres, when the sceptre from the Goths By righteous Heaven was reft. Others had fallen Consumed in sieges, alway by the Moor To the front of war opposed. The policy, With whatsoever show of honour cloak’d, Was gross, and this surviving band had oft At their carousals, of the flagrant wrong, Held such discourse as stirs the mounting blood, The common danger with one discontent Affecting chiefs and men. Nor had the bonds Of rooted discipline and faith attach’d, Thus long restrain’d them, had they not known well That Julian in their just resentment shared, And fix’d their hopes on him. Slight impulse now Sufficed to make these fiery martialists Break forth in open fury; and though first Count Pedro listen’d with suspicious ear To Julian’s dying errand, deeming it Some new decoy of treason, ... when he found A second legate follow’d Virimar, And then a third, and saw the turbulence Of the camp, and how against the Moors in haste They form’d their lines, he knew that Providence This hour had for his country interposed, And in such faith advanced to use the aid Thus wondrously ordain’d. The eager Chiefs Hasten to greet him, Cottila and Paul, Basil and Miro, Theudered, Gunderick, Felix, and all who held authority; The zealous services of their brave host They proffer’d, and besought him instantly To lead against the African their force Combined, and in good hour assail a foe Divided, nor for such attack prepared.

While thus they communed, Roderick from the church Came forth, and seeing Pedro, bent his way Toward them. Sirs, said he, the Count is dead; He died a Christian, reconciled to Heaven, In faith; and when his daughter had received His dying breath, her spirit too took flight. One sacrament, one death, united them; And I beseech ye, ye who from the work Of blood which lies before us may return, ... If, as I think, it should not be my fate ... That in one grave with Christian ceremonies Ye lay them side by side. In Heaven I ween They are met through mercy: ... ill befall the man Who should in death divide them!... Then he turn’d His speech to Pedro in an under voice; The King, said he, I know with noble mind Will judge of the departed; Christian-like He died, and with a manly penitence: They who condemn him most should call to mind How grievous was the wrong which madden’d him; Be that remember’d in his history, And let no shame be offer’d his remains.