THERE ARE SOUNDS IN THE DARK RONCESVALLES.
There are sounds in the dark Roncesvalles,
There are echoes on Biscay’s wild shore;
There are murmurs—but not of the torrent,
Nor the wind, nor the pine-forest’s roar.
’Tis a day of the spear and the banner,
Of armings and hurried farewells;
Rise, rise on your mountains, ye Spaniards!
Or start from your old battle-dells.
There are streams of unconquer’d Asturias