Shall dwell within the sons of mighty Spain,
The heirs of such ancestral bravery!
The cruel scythe of death shall work in vain,
And eke the flight of time, to hinder me
From sounding forth in song, without control,
Numantia's powerful arm, and constant soul!
In her alone I find such worth extreme
As claims a record in the proudest lays;
Such wealth of matter for the poet's theme,
I That thousand ages may rehearse always