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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PROPHECY OF THE TAGUS, by LUIS DE LEON Poet's Biography
First Line: In dalliance roderic the king
Last Line: "o land belovéd—in barbarian chains!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Fray Luis
Subject(s): Prophecy & Prophets; Spain
First Line: In dalliance roderic the king
Last Line: "o land belovéd—in barbarian chains!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Fray Luis
Subject(s): Prophecy & Prophets; Spain
IN dalliance Roderic the King
Delayed with fair La Cava by the side
Of Tagus' gorge, till clamouring
The river-god from out the tide
Emerged, and in a voice prophetic cried:—
"Licentious despot,—would you choose
Such hour for weakness—now when thunders sound,
And trumpetings of death confuse!—
When clash and shout of Mars astound
Our land, and conflagration spreads around!—
"Alas, for thy mere pleasure, how
Our country groans!—That lovely one (O day
Unhallowed of her birth!) doth now
On Spain bring weeping and dismay
To sweep the sceptre of the Goths away!
"Flames, supplications, cries of war,
Laments of death and anguish, and disgrace,
That brief embrace is twining for!—
Involving you and all the race
In shame the ages never shall efface!
"A yoke of slavery on the lands
They till at Constantina,—where the stream
Of Ebro—where Sansueña's strands,
And Lusitania's reach extreme—
On all the spacious Spains,—a doom supreme!"
"Hark, out of Cadiz raging calls
Count Julian's voice to speak a father's wrongs!
No shame of treachery appals—
He conjures up avenging throngs
To waste the kingdom that to you belongs!
"Adown the morn the trumpet's throat
Proclaims the doom! See on Morocco's shore
What thronging where his banners float
Upon the winds conspired to pour
So swift on Spain the Moslem conqueror!
"The cruel Arab lifts his lance
And shakes the gleaming challenge to the wind;
Swiftly his light flotillas dance
Upon their way of warfare blind,—
I see their numbers swarming in my mind!
"The earth is hidden where they tread;
Their sails blot out the intervening sea;
Their clamours strike the heavens with dread;
The sun from out the noon would flee
Before the dust-cloud and obscurity!
"Alas, how ardently their prows
Surmount the waves! What sinews bend the oar
As every galley onward ploughs,
And how the deeps must foam and roar
Where they glide hissing on the Spanish shore!
"To Eölus their sails are given,
And over Hercules' unguarded Straits
Their sharpened prows of steel are driven
Where Neptune the great father waits
To grant them ingress by his open gates!
"Alas! poor wretch, that bosom dear
Can still bewitch you?—that you draw no sword
When such calamities you hear,—
When even upon the sacred ford
Tarifa falls already to the horde?
"Out in the saddle! Spread your wing
Across the mountains! Spare not on the plain
Your bloody spurs! There brandishing
The goad, come thundering amain
Upon them, Roderic, with blade insane!
"But oh! what travail now prepares—
What years of sweat and carnage are ordained
On him who shield and breastplate bears,—
On princelings who might else have reigned,—
On horse and rider to destruction chained!
"Thou, Stream of Betis, shalt be dyed
With mingling blood of kinsmen and of foes!
Unto the sea, how soon! thy tide
With broken wrack of helmets flows
And surge of corpses kingly in their woes!
"Five days of blood infuriate
The God of War unloosens on the plains
Where meet the swarming hordes of hate;
The sixth, alas! thy doom ordains—
O land belovéd—in barbarian chains!"
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