“A nail had once been driven
Into my very heart;
But whether of gold, or iron, or love?—
I only remember its smart.
I only know the anguish
And the torment that it gave:
All day, all night, it made me weep,
Like Mary at the grave.
‘My God!’ I cried, ‘give courage
That I may tear away
That cruel nail.’ My prayer was heard,
I tore it out that day.
But oh, who will believe me?
I did not know ’twas pain;
I felt an aching, aching void,
And a longing to have it again!
What? Was I really yearning
For the anguish I had lost?
Good God! Who understands it—
Our spirit’s mortal crust!”
On 25th May 1891, the earthly remains of Rosalia Castro were transferred to the church of Santo Domingo, “the Gallegan Pantheon.” The whole town of Santiago took part in the ceremony, and a procession followed the bier,—a procession in which all the societies, the university, the colleges, the professors, the students, the employers of the telegraph, of the banks,—in fact everybody took part. Long rows of children bearing lighted candles preceded the hearse, which was followed by men bearing the standards of Galicia; Cuba was also represented.
All the shops were shut, and the whole town presented an appearance of mourning. The townspeople walked two and two in perfect silence from the station outside the town to the entrance of the church, drawing up before the steps of the university, where a local orator gave a short address, upon the close of which a student recited one of Rosalia’s poems to the listening multitude. Then the students showered a rain of laurel wreaths upon the coffin, while the musicians played Shadello’s “Pieta Signor,” and tears flowed on every side.
As the procession arrived at the church of Santo Domingo, an unusual spectacle presented itself. The students of the university awaited with lighted torches the arrival of the bier, and carried it into the church upon their own shoulders. “I never saw anything more touching,” writes Failde, “than the sight of so many young faces streaming with tears, and I do not know whether those tears flowed more for their poetess or for their country.”
“Lugar mais hermoso
No mundo n’ hachara
Qu’ aquel de Galicia
Galicia encantada.”