414 SOUTHEY'S RODERICK-MEETS WITH A HEROINE. Each where they fell; and blood-flakes, parch'd and crack'd And half-burnt bodies, which allur❜d from far The wolf and raven, and to impious food Tempted the houseless dog."-p. 36. While he is gazing on this dreadful scene with all the sympathies of admiration and sorrow, a young and lovely woman rushes from the ruins, and implores him to assist her in burying the bodies of her child, husband, and parents, who all lie mangled at her feet. He sadly complies; and listens, with beating heart and kindling eyes, to the vehement narrative and lofty vow of revenge with which this heroine closes her story. The story itself is a little commonplace; turning mainly upon her midnight slaughter of the Moorish captain, who sought to make love to her after the sacrifice of all her family; but the expression of her patriotic devotedness and religious ardour of revenge, is given with great energy; as well as the effect which it produces on the waking spirit of the king. He repeats the solemn vow which she has just taken, and consults her as to the steps that may be taken for rousing the valiant of the land to their assistance. The high-minded Amazon then asks the name of her first proselyte. "Ask any thing but that!' The fallen king replied. My name was lost When from the Goths the sceptre past away! She rejoins, rather less felicitously, "Then be thy name Maccabee;" and sends him on and sends him on an embassage to a worthy abbot among the mountains; to whom he forthwith reports what he had seen and witnessed. Upon hearing the story of her magnanimous devotion, the worthy priest instantly divines the name of the heroine. “Oh none but Adosinda! . . none but she, .. None but that noble heart, which was the heart Of Auria while it stood-its life and strength, More than her father's presence, or the arm Of her brave lord, all valiant as he was. Hers was the spirit which inspired old age, Ambitious boyhood, girls in timid youth, And virgins in the beauty of their spring, And youthful mothers, doting like herself PROGRESS OF HIS MISSION. With ever-anxious love: She breath'd through all 415 The King then communes on the affairs of Spain with this venerable Ecclesiastic and his associates; who are struck with wonder at the lofty mien which still shines through his sunk and mortified frame. "They scann'd his countenance: But not a trace At length, the prelate lays his consecrating hands on him; and sends him to Pelayo, the heir-apparent of the sceptre, then a prisoner or hostage at the court of the Moorish prince, to say that the mountaineers are still unsubdued, and look to him to guide them to vengeance. These scenes last through two books; and at the beginning of the Fifth, Roderick sets out on his mission. Here, while he reposes himself in a rustic inn, he hears the assembled guests at once lamenting the condition of Spain, and imprecating curses on the head of its guilty king. He says a few words vehemently for himself; and is supported by a venerable old man, in whom he soon recognises an ancient servant of his mother's house -the guardian and playmate of his infant days. Secure from discovering himself, he musters courage to ask if his mother be still alive; and is soothed to milder sorrow by learning that she is. At dawn he resumes his course; and kneeling at a broken crucifix on the road, is insulted by a Moor, who politely accosts him with a kick, and the dignified address of "God's curse confound thee!" for which Roderick knocks him down, and stabs him with his own dagger. The worthy old man, who name is Siverian, comes up just as this feat is performed, and is requested to assist in "hiding the carrion;" after which they proceed lovingly together. 416 SOUTHEY'S RODERICK PELAYO FLORINDA. On their approach to Cordoba, the old man calls sadly to mind the scene which he had witnessed at his last visit to that place, some ten years before, when Roderick, in the pride of his youthful triumph, had brought the haughty foe of his father to the grave where his ashes were interred, and his gentle mother came to see that expiation made. The King listens to this commemoration of his past glories with deep, but suppressed emotion: and entering the chapel, falls prostrate on the grave of his father. A majestic figure starts forward at that action, in the dress of penitence and mourning; and the pilgrims recognise Pelayo, to whom they both come commissioned. This closes the Sixth Book. The Seventh contains their account of the state of affairs, and Pelayo's solemn acceptance of the dangerous service of leading the meditated insurrection. The abdicated monarch then kneels down and hails him King of Spain! and Siverian, though with mournful remembrances, follows the high example. The Eighth Book continues this midnight conver sation; and introduces the young Alphonso, Pelayo's fellow-prisoner at the Moorish court, who is then associated to their counsels, and enters with eager delight into their plans of escape. These two books are rather dull; though not without force and dignity. The worst thing in them is a bit of rhetoric of Alphonso, who complains that his delight in watching the moon setting over his native hills, was all spoiled, on looking up and seeing the Moorish crescent on the towers! The Ninth Book introduces an important personFlorinda, the unhappy daughter of Count Julian. She sits muffled by Pelayo's way, as he returns from the chapel; and begs a boon of him in name of Roderick, the chosen friend of his youth. He asks who it is that adjures him by that beloved but now unuttered name: "She bar'd her face, and, looking up, replied, NIGHT JOURNEY. Pelayo stood confus'd: He had not seen 417 She then tells him, that wretched as she is, the renegade Orpas seeks her hand; and begs his assistance to send her beyond his reach, to a Christian land. He promises that she shall share his own fate; and they part till evening. The Tenth Book sends all the heroic party upon their night pilgrimage to the mountains of Asturia. Roderick and Siverian had gone before. Pelayo, with Alphonso and Florinda, follow in the disguise of peasants. Their midnight march, in that suberb climate, is well described: 66 64 The favouring moon arose, To guide them on their flight through upland paths Sprung up like sparks, and twinkled round their way; Till when the stars were setting, at what hour Within a lonely grove the expected fire, Bright rose the flame replenished; it illum'd The cork-tree's furrow'd rind, its rifts and swells And redder scars, . . and where its aged boughs The rest soon sink in serene and untroubled sleep: But Roderick and Florinda, little dreaming of each other's presence, are kept awake by bitter recollections. 418 SOUTHEY'S RODERICK RODERICK AND FLORINDA. At last she approaches him; and, awed by the sanctity of his air and raiment, kneels down before him, and asks if he knows who the wretch is who thus grovels before him. He answers that he does not: — "Then said she, Here thou seest One who is known too fatally for all,.. Ceas'd from its functions; his breath fail'd."— p. 120. The darkness and her own emotions prevent her, however, from observing him, and she proceeds: "Father!' at length she said, all tongues amid 66 On Rodrick; load his memory with reproach, Why shouldst thou tell me this?' exclaimed the Goth, The death-like moisture: .. Why of Rod'rick's guilt Drawing her body backward where she knelt, And stretching forth her arms with head uprais'd,.. And let me undeceive thee! Not to arraign another do I come! . . Thus as she spake she falter'd at the close, Thou self-condemn'd!.. The cup of shame for thee! Still utterly unconscious of her strange confessor, she goes on to explain herself: |