Page:Tales and Historic Scenes.pdf/53



of elder days! untaught to yield, Who bled for Spain on many an ancient field, Ye, that around the oaken cross of yore,23 Stood firm and fearless on Asturia's shore, And with your spirit, ne'er to be subdued, Hallow'd the wild Cantabrian solitude; Rejoice amidst your dwellings of repose, In the last chastening of your Moslem foes! Rejoice!—for Spain, arising in her strength, Hath burst the remnant of their yoke at length; And they in turn the cup of woe must drain, And bathe their fetters with their tears in vain.