Our ancestors, thou knowest, blest be their names,
Long ruled in Spain, and made that coign of the earth
The glory of all; but to the peaceful arts
Turning their genius when they sat to rule,
Their prudence slept: for that half-barbarous race,
Whom conquering they had spared, grew up more apt
In arms, and rising ’gainst our easy folk
O’erthrew and dispossest them;—and, not content
To have driven us out of Spain, pursued us hither,
Where in our southern bounds we lived retired