Proem

That was a memorable day for Spain,
When on Pamplona's towers, so basely won.
The Frenchmen stood, and saw upon the plain
Their long-expected succors hastening on:
Exultingly they mark'd the brave array,
And deem'd their leader should his purpose gain,
Though Wellington and England barr'd the way.
Anon the bayonets glitter'd in the sun,
And frequent cannon flash'd, whose lurid light
Redden'd through sulphurous smoke; fast volleying round
Roll'd the war-thunders, and with long rebound
Backward from many a rock and cloud-capt height
In answering peals Pyrene sent tlie sound.
Impatient for relief, toward the fight
The hungry garrison their eye-balls strain:
Vain was the Frenchman's skill, his valor vain;
And even then, when eager hope almost
Had moved their irreligious lips to prayer,
Averting from the fatal scene their sight,
They breathed the execrations of despair.
For Wellesley's star hath risen ascendant there,
Once more he drove the host of France to flight.
And triumph'd once again for God and for the right.

That was a day, whose influence far and wide
The struggling nations felt; it was a joy
Wherewith all Europe rung from side to side.
Yet hath Pamplona seen, in former time,
A moment big with mightier consequence,
Affecting many an age and distant clime.
That day it was which saw in her defence.
Contending with the French before her wall,
A noble soldier of Guipuzcoa fall,
Sore hurt, but not to death. For when long care
Restored his shatter'd leg, and set him free.
He would not brook a slight deformity.
As one who, being gay and debonnair,
In courts conspicuous as in camps must be:
So he, forsooth, a shapely boot must wear;
And the vain man, with peril of his life,
Laid the recover'd limb again beneath the knife.

Long time upon tlie bed of pain he lay,
Whiling with books the weary hours away;
And from that circumstance and this vain man
A train of long events their course began,
Whose term it is not given us yet to see.
Who hath not heard Loyola's sainted name,
Before whom Kings and Nations bo w'd tlie knee?
Thy annals, Ethiopia, might proclaim
What deeds arose from that prolific day;
And of dark plots might shuddering Europe tell.
But Science, too, her trophies would display;
Faith give the martyrs of Japan their fame;
And Charity on works of love would dwell
In California's dolorous regions drear;
And where, amid a pathless world of wood,
Gathering a thousand rivers on his way.
Huge Orellana rolls his affluent flood;
And where the happier sons of Paraguay,
By gentleness and pious art subdued,
Bow'd their meek heads beneath the Jesuits' sway.
And lived and died in filial servitude.

I love thus uncontroll'd, as in a dream.
To muse upon the course of human things;
Exploring sometimes the remotest springs.
Far as tradition lends one guiding gleam;
Or following, upon Thought's audacious wings.
Into Futurity, the endless stream.
But now, in quest of no ambitious height,
I go where Truth and Nature lead my way,
And ceasing here from desultory flight,
In measured strains I tell a Tale of Paraguay.