Page:Herrera's Ode from the Spanish.pdf/4

Oh, desart Libya! sought thy fatal coast!
And trusting not in Him, th’ eternal power
Of might and glory, but in earthly force,
Making the strength of multitudes their boast,
A flush’d and crested host,
Elate in lofty dreams of victory, trod
Their path of pride, as o’er a conquer’d land
Given for the spoil; nor rais’d their eyes to God;
And Israel’s Holy One withdrew his hand,
Their sole support–and heavily and prone
They fell, the car, the steed, the rider, all o’erthrown.

It came, the hour of wrath–the hour of woe,
Which to deep solitude and tears consign’d
The peopled realm, the realm of joy and mirth!
A gloom was on the heavens; no mantling glow
Announc’d the morn; it seem’d as Nature pin’d,
And boding clouds obscur’d the sunbeam’s birth;
And startling the pale earth,
Bursting upon the mighty and the proud,
With visitation dread,
Their crests th’ Eternal in his anger bow’d,
And rais’d barbarian nations o’er their head;
Th’ inflexible, the fierce, who seek not gold,
But vengeance on their foes, relentless, uncontrol’d.

Then was the sword let loose, the flaming sword
Of the strong Infidel’s ignoble hand.
Amidst that host, the pride, the flower, the crown,
Of thy fair Knighthood; and th’ insatiate horde,
Not with thy life content, oh! ruin’d land!
Sad Lusitania e’en thy bright renown,
Defaced and trampled down!
And broke, and scatter’d, as a torrent-flood,
Thy pomp of arms and banners:–till the sands
Became a lake of blood–thy noblest blood!
The plain a mountain of thy slaughter’d bands.
Strength on thy foes, resistless might was shed,
On thy devoted sons–amaze, and shame. and dread.
Are these the conquerors–these the lords of fight,